


Something once so familiar

by agamous (apetala)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: A bit of playing around with the timeline--here cris and geri are the same age, Baby twink crispy gets to be in power bottom of real madrid crispys body, Bodyswap, M/M, age gap warning, and vice versa, as well as a metric ton of smut, did i borrow the deus ex machina from 13 going on 30? maybe a little, havoc will be had, is there such a thing as time travel bodyswap, little geri is going to have a redemption arc i promise, or maybe even time travel, technically mindswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:28:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apetala/pseuds/agamous
Summary: There once was a boy, homesick and frightened, who was on the cusp of starting his whole life.There once was a man, powerful and lovely, who danced on the pitch and ruled in his bed.Perhaps they can both learn from each other.Chapter 6: Grown up Cris gets a taste of his own medicine





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bodyswap AU--young Cristiano from his Manchester United days suddenly finds himself in his full grown self playing for Real Madrid, and vice versa. 
> 
> Rio Ferdinand and Gerard Pique suddenly find themselves with a confident and assertive Cristiano who is not the shy, blushing boy that they know. 
> 
> Everyone in RM, on the other hand, find themselves with a Cristiano who can't even talk about sex without blushing. Some people find this intriguing. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please note there are warnings!

“Happy birthday, Ronnie!”

 

Cristiano blushed, laughing and holding his hands up, trying to shield himself from the flashing cameras as everyone crowded around him, a surprise ambush for his eighteenth birthday.

 

Rio came up to him first, a fond smile on his face. “Cristiano. Happy birthday.” He enfolded him in a loose limbed hug, followed by such a quick peck on his cheek that Cristiano had no time to duck down and hide his face from Rio, too shy of being kissed in public. But Rio only laughed, and hugged Cristiano tighter, not releasing him until he had pressed another sweet kiss on Cristiano’s cheek, Cris scrunching his face up, but laughing in delight the whole time.

 

A Manchester United teammate came up to Cristiano, with a children’s party hat on, holding out a glass of champagne. “Take a sip, Ronnie! You’re finally legal.” He chortled, flashing a knowing smile at Rio. “To drink, that is.”

 

Rio frowned slightly, as Cristiano turned a bright pink shade and hid his face into Rio’s shoulder. “Ruud. You shouldn’t tease him on his birthday.”

 

Ruud laughed, his own face slightly flushed, and his breath sharp with alcohol already. “He’s a man now. Or I suppose he will be, after tonight.” He winked at Rio.

 

But before Rio, his brow darkening with real temper, could say anything, Gerard burst in, putting his arms around Rio and Cristiano, his body pushing the two apart from their embrace. “Cris! You promised to do your first shot with me!”

 

“All right, all right.” Cristiano laughed, butting his forehead fondly against Gerard’s. “Show me the way to alcohol poisoning.”

 

“Good thing you’re not in America.” Gerard said as he folded his fingers with Cristiano’s, and leading him towards the table. “Their legal drinking age isn’t until twenty one. Can you imagine taking twenty one shots for your birthday? Surprised more of them don’t drop dead at the bar.”

 

Cristiano felt a warm feeling in the pit of his belly, as Gerard chattered along happily, still carelessly holding his hand, the lanky, unbelievable height of his friend easily breaking the crowd before them, who all patted Cristiano on the back or smiled at him, wishing him a myriad of happy birthdays.

 

Cristiano would never admit it, but he had a little bit of a crush on Geri. He liked the way Geri would hold his hand so casually, and lead the way for him, knowing how shy Cris could get in strange places. Ever since he had come to England, a land of endless rain and rich vibrant greenery and frankly terrible food, everywhere was aching unfamiliar to him, so strange from the dry heat and blue ocean of his hometown in Madeira. And Geri understood Cris, even if he had come a little later after Cristiano to England, had more easily made friends and was more adventurous about going to new bars and restaurants. It was easy to chat with Geri in Spanish about all the food they missed back home, joking about how they should have packed a scuba suit for all this rain. And when Cristiano was really, truly homesick, or had another upsetting conversation with his dad on the phone, he could call Geri, any time of the night. And he would answer, always cheerful, never grumpy. They could talk for hours in the night, until the knot of grief loosened in Cristiano’s chest.

 

Of course, Geri would never look at Cristiano in _that_ way. Like a boyfriend, or….a lover, Cristiano’s thoughts stuttering at the thought of describing Geri that way.

 

It would never happen.

 

“What are you thinking about, dreamyhead?” Gerard teased Cristiano, who came back to earth in a thump, realizing Gerard had just asked him what shot he wanted to start with first, as they stood in front of a bar filled with frankly terrifying amounts of alcohol, tall, expensive top-shelf booze along with cases on cases of beer stacked next to the table. A bored looking bartender stood shift, waiting for their order.

 

“Um…could you pick for me?” Cristiano asked helplessly, his head spinning as he looked around the table without a clue what brands were good. “I don’t know anything about alcohol. Can wine be a shot?”

 

Gerard snorted in laughter, as he reached over with a card in his hand. “Cris, you’re hopeless. Here, start a tab a for me.” Geri asked the bartender. “We want two margarita shots.”

 

“Are margaritas good?” Cristiano asked, rather desperately as the bartender without a word began to grab drinks and crush ice. “It’s still sweet, yeah?”

 

Gerard rolled his eyes. “You’ll love it, I promise. You drink it with the salt around the rim, and then you finish by biting into a lime. You’ll be ordering all the time when you’re with girls, it’s a real panty dropper.”

 

Cristiano flushed again, biting his lip. “You’ve been with a lot of girls, then?”

 

Gerard flashed a half lidded smile at Cristiano, a slow brilliant thing that spoke of sweet night nothings, that made Cristiano blush even more, for some stupid reason. “Why would you want to know.” He drawled.

 

Cristiano had to scold himself silently. _Geri’s my friend, nothing more. Stop embarrassing yourself!_

 

“Good thing we decided to surprise you at home, instead of the club. Anybody could take advantage of you there.” Gerard’s voice had dropped half an octave, into a deep rumble, a voice that always made Cristiano’s toes curl to hear it during their late night phone calls, as Geri got sleepier. “Here, our shots are here.”

 

Cristiano took a tentative sip, while Gerard downed his in a single swallow. It _was_ kind of sweet, but he scrunched up his face at the aftertaste, the bitterness turning his palate. “God, this is awful.”

 

“You’re not doing it right!” Gerard laughed. Without another word, he lifted Cristiano’s shot glass to his mouth, forcing Cristiano to swallow the contents, and then swiftly offering up a lime. “Hurry up, bite it!”

 

Cristiano, flapping his hands in distress, bit into the lime in a hurry. Surprisingly, the sourness did cut through the bitterness, allowing Cristiano to appreciate the warmth spreading down his throat and chest. “Fuck, that was hard to swallow.” Cristiano said, making a face.

 

“That’s what she said.” Gerard said with a wink, Cristiano groaning and smacking his friend in the arm, the solid hardness of Geri’s muscle hurting his hand more than anything. Geri’s smile only widened when Cristiano hissed and started massaging his hand. “Too hard for you, baby?”

 

“Are you boys having fun?” Rio smoothly interjected, his arm snaking around Cristiano’s waist, pulling him closer. Cristiano, his face still red from the tequila shot.

 

“Rio.” Cristiano smiled up at the taller man. “I took my first margarita shot.”

 

Rio laughed, raising his hand to brush away a crystal of salt on the corner of Cristiano’s mouth. “That was very brave of you, Cristiano. I’m proud.”

 

Cristiano had to remind himself that Geri and him could never be a thing, never be together in _that_ way.

 

After all, Rio was his boyfriend.

 

And tonight, Cristiano was planning to give up everything to him.

 

* * *

 

 

Him and Rio hadn’t gone all the way yet. They had only been dating for a little while now, despite the glances and concerned whispers from the other teammates, who knew about them but kept quiet about it. Only Ruud ever alluded to it in public, usually trying to get a rise out of Rio. Gabriel had once sat him down with a grave face, telling Cristiano to be careful with older men, that it was easy for a young boy like him to be manipulated, to do things that they weren’t ready to do so.

 

Except Rio wasn’t like that. He truly wasn’t. He was sweet. He never pushed for anything that Cristiano wasn’t already ready for. They had stuck to only holding hands and whispering to each other for months, sweet conversations where they talked lazily about everything and nothing. And when they first started kissing, it was Cristiano who had started it, had stood on his tippy toes and pressed his mouth against the side of Rio’s mouth, blushing furiously all the while.

 

They hadn’t progressed much further than kissing in the past few months. Once, Rio had snaked his hand down Cristiano’s trousers during a particularly intense make out session, when Cristiano was lying in Rio’s bed, and had started touching him _there_ , first softly, teasingly. And then Rio had gripped him properly, started to jerk him off in earnest, kissing Cristiano soundly the whole time, while Cris shook underneath him and cried. When Cris had finished, ruining his briefs and his trousers, he had begged Rio to fuck him, and Rio had stared at him with burning eyes, hovering over him, Cristiano teary eyed with mussed clothes, his body so clearly played with, his sweet, tender body so eager to be taken.

 

And in the end, Rio had gently shook his head, kissed Cristiano on the forehead, and left him behind in the bed, as Rio locked himself in the bathroom.

 

Cristiano had jerked himself off in his hand for _weeks_ , thinking about that night at Rio’s house.

 

But what Cristiano would never tell Rio, was that when the memories of that night had started to fade, Cris would think of other nights, as he placed his hand on himself in his bed. Moaning, as he thought about the night when Geri had showed up at his place, far too drunk to drive home, somehow walking from a nearby bar, to Cris’s house.

 

Cristiano had gotten used to thinking of Geri as _only a friend._ A good friend. Maybe even a best friend, in England. A fellow teammate, his age, who he could crack jokes in Spanish with, could complain about Ruud and his nasty habit of bullying the youngest players, with.

 

He had walked Geri up to his bed, thinking he could let Geri sleep it off, while he took the couch. Secretly wondering how the bedsheets would smell of Geri, once he left. Secretly scolding future Cris to not jerk off while burying his face into the sheets, breathing in Geri’s scent, pretending it was his hand on him.

 

And then when he had deposited Gerard into his bed in a messy spill, Cristiano blushing as Geri’s shirt rode up, revealing his abdomen, the muscles of his belly rippling as he turned in Cris’s bed, Cris had to be a stupid idiot and hover over Geri as he groaned, asking him what was wrong, asking him if he was thirsty.

 

And Gerard, cracking an eye open, had suddenly reached up, and pulled Cristiano down into the bed with him.

 

Cristiano was too surprised to do anything at first, Geri moving quickly, rolling himself on top of Cris, Cris breathing quickly as Geri seated himself on top of him, his weight heavy on Cris’s hips, his strong hands gripping his wrists down.

 

“Geri?” Cristiano had said in a tiny whisper.

 

Gerard, without speaking, leaned over, and kissed Cristiano.

 

And Cristiano, too surprised, let him.

 

They weren’t like Rio’s kisses, skilled and tender, building up his momentum slowly, teasing Cristiano until he was dark eyed and panting, Rio playing his body as if it was an instrument, the different cries and moans Cris could make.

 

Gerard kissed like it was a battle. It was all sharp teeth, a nip on Cristiano’s bottom lip, making him gasp, and then Geri’s tongue pushing in past Cristiano’s teeth, laving him open, Cristiano moaning in protest as Geri invaded him, but Geri only tightening his grip on Cristiano’s wrists and kissing him even more roughly, rhythmically thrusting his tongue in Cristiano, as if…as if…

 

Cristiano had turned his face at that thought, breaking the kiss, gasping. “Geri!”

 

Gerard still ignored him, but he stopped kissing Cristiano’s mouth, instead sitting up and shimmying down, getting his hands around Cristiano’s waistband, and in one quick movement, Cris was naked from the waist down, as Geri tossed his shorts and briefs to the floor.

 

“No!” Cristiano had tried to sit up. “Geri, you’re drunk, _stop_.”

 

But Gerard hadn’t.

 

Instead, he leaned down again, spreading Cristiano’s legs wide open, despite Cris’s protests and trying to clamp them shut, Geri’s strong hand rubbing against Cris’s calf as he bent down, and kissed Cris, between his legs, kissing him _there_.

 

“Oh!” Cristiano had gasped. And kept gasping, as Gerard kept kissing him, maddeningly hot and wet open mouth kisses against the most tender part of him. Cristiano was instantly at attention, his erection begging for Geri’s attention, who in return lavished it. Cristiano had fallen back on the bed, gasping for air, completely at Geri’s mercy. He couldn’t believe his _friend_ was sucking him off like this, Geri, Geri with the laughing blue eyes, Geri who always had a joke for him, Geri who listened to him as he complained about his dad.

 

And then Geri was swallowing him down, and Cristiano was making these _sounds_ , and before he was even aware, the tightening in his belly released in a white pulse of electricity that wracked his body into shivers, Cris calling out Geri’s name as he came, and Geri pulling off his cock in a coughing fit.

 

Cristiano shivered, not entirely in delight as Geri began to commence licking him off all over, Cris standing up on his elbows when he realized what Geri was doing. “Geri, stop, that’s gross.” He whispered, watching Geri lick white droplets of his come clean from his belly and thighs.

 

“No, it’s not.” Gerard said, in that deep low voice that always made Cris shiver.

 

Then Gerard got up on his hands and knees, a strange look in his eye, clambering up to bracket Cristiano, his hands beside his head as Geri leaned forward. “It’s my turn.” He said, his mouth still wet, Cristiano entranced by the shine of his lips.

 

“Geri…” Cris said in a whisper.

 

Geri looked back at him, his full mouth still parted, his blue eyes dark as he watched Cristiano tremble underneath him, trapped.

 

“It’s late, Geri.” Cris said in a small voice. “You’re drunk…and you should be asleep.”

 

For a long moment, Cris thought that Geri was going to kiss him again, hold him down again. But then Geri groaned, and collapsed on Cristiano’s side. “Yeah, you’re right.” He said, drowsily.

 

His arms curled around Cristiano, refusing to let him leave the bed. “Stay, Cris.” He drowsed.

 

And so Cris did, his heart racing, his head spinning.

 

The next morning, Gerard had yawned in his ear, and asked brightly “What’s for breakfast?” And Cris, relieved at heart that Geri didn’t seem to remember what happened last night, fed him cereal as he filled the air in a rapid stream of words, trying to fill the silence, trying not to think about what happened last night. Geri himself never brought it up, so Cris assumed he must had been black out drunk last night.

 

Cristiano felt bad sometimes, thinking back on what happened. He had obviously taken advantage of Geri, somehow, being black out drunk. It was his fault. Geri, being so drunk, had probably read Cris’s secret crush on his face, and then had only started working on instinct. That was probably the way Geri was with girls, Cris thought rather dizzily. If Geri had known he had blown his best friend last night, he’d probably be so embarrassed.

 

And so Cristiano didn’t say a word, not to Geri or to Rio, about what happened.

 

* * *

  

All too quickly, the party was over.

 

There were streamers and confetti strewn all over the house, tinsel gaiety and pastel pieces of paper, carpeting the floor like flower petals. There were random pieces of cake everywhere, for some reason, not a few slices of cake on the ground, trampled by many feet.

 

Cristiano sighed to look at the mess. “I’ll have to call a housekeeping service tomorrow, Rio. There’s no way I can clean this all up on my own.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Cristiano.” Rio kissed the side of his head, fondly. “I’ll do it in the morning. Tonight’s still your birthday, remember. You’re not to worry about things like that.”

 

Cristiano smiled up at Rio, shyly, gently, embracing Rio around the waist, a quick look around the house to make sure that it was truly empty of people before doing so. Rio chuckled, as he also folded his arms around Cristiano.

 

Somewhere in the house, music was still playing, but a yearning, somber love song, a girl singing about maps, and how she loved her little saint, more than the world, begging him to stay.

 

Rio and Cristiano holding each other, rocked each other slowly, Rio stroking Cristiano’s hair gently, with such love in his hands, Cristiano could cry, his broken little heart mending itself in Rio’s hands, so soundlessly, so easily, as if the cracks that his father had made, never existed.

 

“Rio.” Cristiano breathed, holding Rio tightly, breathing in the warm, golden scent of him, strong and dependable, with the gentle, clever hands. “Rio. Take me to bed.”

 

* * *

 

 

But somehow, when Cristiano and Rio were finally in his bed, kissing each other desperately, Rio slipping off his jacket, and Cristiano pulling off his t shirt—

 

it all went wrong, somehow.

 

The kissing was fine. Rio’s kisses were a little more heated than usual, and that had made Cris’s belly flutter, as he realized the finality of what they were doing, that he was going to lose his virginity tonight, that Rio was going to take his innocence.

 

And then Rio’s mouth left his, and Cristiano was whining for the loss, as Rio kissed the side of his neck, still grasping Cris with both hands holding him flush to Rio’s body, his heavy weight on top of Cris making him boneless and warm.

 

A soft warm mouth, tonguing down his chest, and then Cristiano gasped, as he felt Rio’s teeth bite at his nipple, teasing the little nub, bringing it to full hardness, before rolling it between his teeth, sucking down at the same time, Cristiano nearly bucking off Rio in his surprise, as well as his pleasure.

 

“Do you like that?” Rio had murmured, Cris feeling his smile against his skin.

 

“Rio.” Cristiano whined. “You’re so mean.”

 

Rio had laughed at that. “You’re going to go crazy then, the things I’m going to do to you tonight, if this is how you react.”

 

Cristiano felt Rio continue to kiss his way slowly down, laving hot kisses on the dark line of his belly, dipping into his belly button, the breath of his nose tickling his lower belly as he continued to make his way even lower—

 

and then he felt Rio, gently unbutton his trousers. Cristiano looked down, to see Rio staring back up at him, a silent question on his face, as he got ready to unzip Cris. Asking for permission.

 

Cristiano nodded, and Rio unshucked his trousers free, slowly revealing Cristiano’s bare legs, his eyes devouring every inch of Cris’s bare skin, the frank desire on Rio’s face making Cris blush furiously, and turn his face away, shutting his eyes, letting himself lay there stilly, ready to be devoured.

 

And Cristiano felt Rio tug down his underwear, revealing Cris’s fully hard erection, already starting to bead tiny drops of precome from the head. He heard Rio huff a laugh, jumping as he felt the warmth of Rio’s hand gently run down the shaft of his cock. “So ready for me.” Rio murmured.

 

And then, Cristiano felt Rio leaning down on the bed, and his hot breath breathing on the head of Cris’s cock, pulsing at the sensation. Cris couldn’t help a small sound as Rio softly, but surely, spread his legs apart, pulling them apart as wide as possible, Cristiano prickling all over as he felt the fire of Rio’s gaze looking his fill between Cris’s legs, all of him, exposed fully to Rio, Rio’s hands still firmly on Cristiano’s thighs to hold them apart.

 

And then Cristiano felt the warmth of Rio’s breath again, only it wasn’t on his cock anymore, it was just barely teasing him at his balls, and then going lower—

 

and Cris suddenly a tongue, invading the crease of his ass, Rio’s hands firmly spreading him even further apart, his mouth ferociously working Cris open, diving straight for the most shameful center of him---

 

And Cris sat up, gasping. “Rio, _no_!”

 

Rio had gotten up on his elbows immediately, his hands letting go of Cristiano, allowing him to clamp his knees shut, as he panted for air, very nearly in a panic.

 

“Cristiano, what’s wrong?” Rio asked, concern all over his face. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No.” Cristiano shook his head, his face so red, tears naturally leaking from his eyes as it did whenever he was truly embarrassed. “Rio, you shouldn’t…you shouldn’t put your mouth there! It’s dirty!”

 

Rio had shook his head in confusion. “Cristiano, I wanted to do that. It’s not anything to be ashamed of.”

 

Cristiano bent over himself, legs folding in his arms, shaking his head. “I don’t…I don’t want you to lower yourself like that, for me. You don’t have to do things like that.”

 

“Cristiano.” Rio had murmured, pulling himself fully up now, bringing Cris into a hug, Cris sighing into the embrace, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to. I only wanted to do that to bring you pleasure.”

 

Cristiano had nodded his head dumbly, the traitorous tears still spilling out of his eyes.

 

“I think I should go.” Rio had said gently.

 

Cristiano’s head shot up, Cris’s eyes looking up at Rio in a panic. “Rio, no. I didn’t mean to ruin our night together. I still want us to…” Cris found himself unable to finish his sentence, growing tongue tied.

 

Rio, instead of answering Cristiano, leaned in to press a kiss on the top of Cris’s head. “I think you’re feeling a lot of pressure tonight, because it’s your birthday. And I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not ready for. It may be better for us to wait a little longer, I think.”

 

Cristiano shook his head. “I want this, Rio. I really do! I want…I want to do it.”

 

Rio chuckled, and held Cristiano to his chest a little tighter for a moment, before letting go, and getting off the bed. “You should go to bed, Cristiano. It’s late. I promise I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Cristiano had pouted, cried, and complained, all the way through, as Rio dressed himself, made Cris put on his clothes as well, put on his shoes, and pressed one last kiss to Cristiano’s forehead at the doorway, all to no avail. Cris was left staring at the backlights of Rio’s car, disappearing down the driveway.

 

And then out of the darkness of the driveway, a shadow stepped out from the side of the house, walking up into the light, Cristiano recognizing the walk.

 

“Geri?” Cristiano called out, squinting at the figure. “What are you still doing here?”

 

“Waiting.” Geri said simply, his hands in his pockets. His eyes never left Cristiano’s face as he walked up. For some reason, Geri’s frank gaze was making Cris flush pink again, though he didn’t know why.

 

“Waiting for what?” Cristiano had turned, about to go back into the house. “Everyone else has gone now.”

 

“I know.” Geri spoke quietly, right behind Cristiano, his hand sliding up Cristiano’s shirt, the calluses of his hand rubbing against Cris’ bare belly. “That’s why I waited.”

 

And then Geri was lifting Cristiano with both hands, the front door slamming shut behind them, Cristiano too shocked to say anything, even scream, as Geri shoved him against the wall, hard.

 

Cristiano heart was hammering in his chest, his chest heaving for air, his voice unable to work at all, his hands easily batted away as Geri made short work of his clothes, rapidly undoing his pants, yanking both them and his briefs down, all the while pressing Cristiano against the wall, trapping him, making the dizziness even worse, Cris’s skin starting to tingle unpleasantly.

 

“Geri.” He whispered.

 

“Shhh.” Geri soothed. “It’s okay Cris. It’s your birthday. This is what you always wanted.”

 

“Geri.” Cristiano tried again. Surely Geri was too drunk. Surely Geri would stop, once he realized Cris didn’t want this, not like this, not against a wall with his pants shoved down, like he was something to be used. “Geri, stop.”

 

Geri adjusting his weight against Cristiano, the sound of something wet, and a popping sound, as if Geri had been sucking on something. And then Cristiano was struggling, trying to shove himself back, trying to free himself, only Geri was stronger, always had been, easily pinning Cris against the wall as his fingers, wet with spit, was spreading his ass open, Cris crying out as Geri’s finger entered him, the spit not nearly enough, the roughness as he slowly pushed his digit in, the sensation burning Cristiano up like fire.

 

“It’s my turn, Cris.” Geri said, not unkindly, as Cristiano began to sob.

 

* * *

 

  

Gerard’s mistake happened when he was finally done with fingering Cristiano, judging three wet fingers to be enough prep, withdrawing them out of Cris with an obscene pop. Cristiano was limp against Geri, breathing far too quickly, desperate for air, feeling his head spinning, his fingers long gone numb.

 

When Gerard pulled his own erection free, starting to line himself up to Cristiano however, he was so engrossed in getting ready to just about fuck Cris that he wasn’t ready for Cris to suddenly lash out, fighting like a wildcat, an elbow hitting him in the cheekbone hard, causing Geri to curse as he fell.

 

Cristiano fell down with him, but was up on his feet in an instant. Opening the front door with a slam, he was running outside in a blur, quick as a gazelle, pulling up his trousers as he ran. He could hear Geri cursing behind him, but while Geri had always been stronger than Cris, Cris had always been quicker. He ran out into the green fields adjacent to his house, not caring where he went, as long as it was far from Geri, far from the house.

 

He tripped, and collapsed, head over heels, but it was soft dirt and grass, and Cristiano only lay there, stunned, the only sound in his ears the beating of his heart and the wind meandering through the grass. He was far from the other houses, deep in the middle of the pitch dark field. Geri hadn’t followed after him.

 

Cristiano slowly, curled himself into a ball, as the emotions bloomed in his chest. Fear, humiliation, betrayal.

 

“I hate this.” Cristiano sobbed. “I hate being eighteen. I wish I wasn’t here. I wish I wasn’t here right now.”

 

There was a bolt of lightning, suddenly turning the sky livid, as Cristiano whispered to himself. When it was dark again, somehow Cristiano found himself falling asleep, the adrenaline rush fading, the late night making his eyes flutter, slowly shut.

 

* * *

 

 

When Cristiano woke up, he was in an unfamiliar field, grass tickling his body, the night darkening the landscape around him.

 

Cristiano got up slowly, completely disoriented. Where on earth was he? Last he remembered, he was looking outside his window on his own bed, lazy as a cat, petting his sleeping dog, seeing how the sky suddenly lit up with a sudden lightening storm, turning the whole night sky green and purple, before disappearing into nothingness like it never existed. Even with the weird storm, Cristiano had felt his eyelids growing heavy, and in another instant he was falling asleep, the sound of his dog’s snoring in his ears.

 

And now he was randomly in some wet field? Not wearing the clothes he had been when he was in his own house?

 

And his own body felt different as well. Lighter, somehow. Cristiano leapt lightly to his feet, marveling at how his knees didn’t complain one bit at the sudden, lithe movement, his body as cat quick and strong as it had been when he was young. Cristiano squinted down at himself. And wasn’t he smaller somehow? Maybe it was the darkness, but he didn’t remember the last time he had such a small waist.

 

As Cristiano walked toward the string of lights in the horizon, wondering why whoever had dropped in the field as a joke didn’t give him shoes, he wondered why the place smelt so oddly familiar. He had definitely never woken up in the middle of the night in a random ass farmers patch. So why did the scent of the grass on the wind, feel so familiar?

 

Cristiano squinted as he walked up a oddly familiar driveway, his memory niggling at something, the pattern of the driveway, the look of the potted plants along the way—

 

And as Cristiano reached the front of the house, intending to knock on the door, and ask politely to use their phone, he saw something that took his breath away.

 

Waiting on the front step, curled up in a ball of sulkiness, was Gerard Pique.

 

But not the Gerard Pique he knew now, the tall, over muscled man with far too friendly hands who was always bitterly complaining about Cris in the press.

 

It was the Gerard Pique of England, in their Manchester United days, a boy still retaining the graceful, slender lines of his youth, his hair still silky and soft, his eyes a bright blue unmarred by the constant expression of temper in them whenever they rested on Cristiano.

 

And Cristiano, his memory fully jostled, remembered why this scene looked so familiar to him.

 

“You little _shit_.” Cristiano hissed, the sound of his voice making Geri’s head leap out, his eyes wide.

 

“Cris!” Geri said, a lopsided smile breaking on his face—

 

and Cristiano Ronaldo, star jewel of Real Madrid, avowed rival to Barcelona, the superstar athlete with years of experience under his belt and absolutely no shits left to give, ran up and punched a young Gerard Pique in the face.

 

“Fuck you.” Cristiano hissed at Geri, as he lay sprawled on the step, with a dazed look on his face. “I remember this. This was the first night you tried to force yourself on me.”

 

And with those words, Cristiano leapt on top of Geri, and proceeded to punch the living daylights out of him.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Gerard got up to change his ice, Cristiano glared him down and barked at him. “Sit your ass down, Pique.”

 

Gerard glowered back, but immediately collapsed back on the couch, pushed to the opposite corner of the room, while Cristiano sat on an loveseat on the opposite side, facing Geri. Cris was nursing a split lip with a makeshift bag of ice to his face as well.

 

It turned out that while Cristiano, in this new quick body, had the element of surprise when he had started whaling on Gerard, Cris had forgotten that Gerard was still a good couple of stone weight heavier than him in pure muscle. Gerard had managed to sit himself up and very solidly backhand Cristiano in the mouth. Both of them had staggered apart then, nursing their respective bruises and hissing at the touch. Without another word, Cristiano had stalked inside, Geri had meekly followed him in, and they were now holding ice to their bruised faces, glaring at each other, trapped in a veritable Mexican standoff.

 

“I’m not going over to your side.” Gerard mumbled, having cut the inside of his lip on a tooth, his mouth looking swollen and painful.

 

 _Good_. Cristiano thought viciously to himself. _I hope your idiot tongue swells up and falls off, save you a lot of trouble in the future._

 

“I don’t give a shit.” Cristiano said coldly. “You stay where you are or I’m calling the police.”

 

“They’d arrest you too.” Gerard flared, looking like he was about to stand up, but thinking better of it. “You beat me up way worse than I did you. Prick.”

 

“Attempted rape is still a worse charge than assault and battery, you dumb motherfucker.” Cristiano hissed back.

 

“It wasn’t rape.” Gerard furrowed his eyes. “God, Cris, you were hot and ready for it tonight. I’ve been so patient, waiting for you for ages, even with you cockteasing me the whole time. I figured after Rio left so early that he didn’t even fuck you properly. You should have heard the way you were moaning on my fingers, melting in my arms, begging for it—“

 

In a silent fury, Cristiano suddenly lunged back and hurled the bag of ice in his hand at Gerard’s talking face, anything to shut his idiot face up.

 

Gerard ducked, but only barely. He stood up, his own face red, and flung his own bag of ice at Cristiano, the bag skittering loudly before landing at Cris’s feet.

 

They both glared at each other, chests heaving, fists clenched, for a long moment.

 

And then, Cristiano bent down slowly to retrieve the bag of ice, flipping off Geri tersely in the process.

 

Gerard only turned a more congested red, but picked up the bag of ice on the sofa without saying a word.

 

For a couple of silent minutes, they continued to press the ice against their injuries.

 

And then a thought occurred to Cristiano.

 

“Pique.” He gritted.

 

Gerard looked up at him, not responding, but his jewel colored eyes quirked as he silently paid attention.

 

“Do you mean to tell me I’m still a virgin? On my eighteenth birthday?”

 

Gerard’s brow knotted, as he gaped at Cristiano in confusion. “Um….yeah? I think so?” Geri coughed to get the squeakiness out of his voice, continuing in a raspier tone. “From what you told me last time you called. I don’t think you got past third base yet with Rio.”

 

Cristiano sighed slowly, heavily. “Fuck. I’m still a _nerd_.”

 

* * *

  

* * *

 

 

 

Nerd Cristiano was just barely starting to emerge from his doze, his limbs oddly heavy, his body feeling thicker, as if he was encased in honey.

 

As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he processed was the bright light in his eyes.

 

 _It must be daylight_. Cristiano thought to himself. There was a smudge of sadness at the thought, and he slowly began to remember why, why he was waking up with burning eyes, and a pain in his chest.

 

 _Rio._ Cristiano remembered. The melody of a hauntingly sad song in his ears, being rocked back and forth in those strong arms, the red lights of Rio’s car leaving burning traces in the pitch dark night sky as he left.

 

And at the thought of Geri, Cristiano gasped, and sat up, with a small cry, as if someone had torn his heart at the roots.

 

 _I must have slept out here all night_. Cristiano thought to himself in a daze. _I better hurry home, before Rio visits._

 

Except as he opened his eyes fully, Cristiano found himself gaping, the surroundings of where he was utterly beyond anything he would have expected.

 

Where was the green grass, the pearly English sky, the line of houses in the distance of the field where he had ran off into, in the dead of the night?

 

Cristiano’s hands trembled as he touched the coverlets of the bed he lay in, unbelievably soft in his hands, a touch as smooth as cream against his skin. He was clearly inside someone’s home, the sunlight streaming brightly inside the room from the windows that took up nearly the whole of the wall space. Cristiano noted that he seemed to be on the second floor—he could see the shimmering leaves of a tree, scintillating bladed glossy leaves with pale undersides in the wind, as if it was transforming before his very eyes.

 

There was a snuffle, and Cristiano turned in disbelief, as he noticed a giant golden retriever sleeping next to him on the bed, its paws twitching, deeply asleep, but still curled up next to him.

 

“Who lets their dog sleep on the bed?” Cristiano wondered out loud, softly to himself. But he allowed himself to gently touch the dog on the head, the retriever turning against his hand, before shaking itself and going back to sleep.

 

 _Someone must have found me._ Cristiano thought to himself. _They brought me in to their place, and let me sleep._

 

Cristiano felt a twinge of apprehension at his realization. What if the person who had took him in was a serial killer? What if they meant to trap Cris in here, keeping him here for whatever nefarious purposes? Cris slid himself off the covers, legs swinging out to stand himself up—

 

And Cristiano nearly gasped, as he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his knees as he tried to get up quickly, nearly buckling to the floor, just barely seating himself back on the bed in time.

 

Cristiano then looked down, to really look at his body, and his heart stopped in his chest.

 

 _These….aren’t my legs._ He thought to himself numbly.

 

It was utterly impossible. Of course this had to be Cristiano’s body. Of course this wasn’t a dream. You couldn’t feel pain in a dream, after all.

 

But there was no denying that these monstrously thick thighs—all corded, bulging muscle—were not the legs Cristiano had gone to sleep in. For one, in England his skin had turned a slightly dusk-tinged, but still creamy shade of pale. Cristiano quickly checked his body all over, to confirm, that yes, he had an amazing rich golden tan, but _holy shit he was fucking built all over._

Cristiano gingerly got himself up, but his knees barely complained with the care he took, only a slight ache as he walked over, seeing an open door that seemed to lead into a bathroom, looking for a mirror to confirm what was happening—

 

and all he could do was gape at himself, staring at his reflection.

 

“ _I’m old_.” Cristiano breathed to himself, panicking, tears pricking his eyes. He felt himself start to hyperventilate, as he unbelievingly ran his hands over his changed face.

 

First of all, Cristiano had stubble, a manly, rough prickling of his face and chin, not the rather soft and somewhat sparse growth that usually greeted Cris when he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. His hair too had changed, no longer an unruly mass of curls, but carefully sculpted and worked, with blonde highlights brushing the very top of his head.

 

Cristiano’s face had sharpened up, the baby fat that Cris had bemoaned and pinched at for so long now completely gone. A handsome face was reflected in the mirror, all sharp cheekbones and strong jawline, bone structure that finally matched Cris’s oversized adams apple and his height. Cris had secretly thought those overtly masculine features had looked gangly and awkward coupled with his baby face, but he had clearly grown into his features, the whole look of him now harmonious.

 

He didn’t look like a pretty little boy anymore. He looked like a beautiful man, strong and powerful. Cristiano inhaled, looking at his half nude body, the broadness of his shoulders and chest, the definition of his muscles sharp all over his torso.

 

His hands paused at his waistband, as Cristiano felt himself flush all over, a sudden sense of wrongness pricking at his conscience, as if he was unfairly peeking at someone else’s body. But it wasn’t. It was his body, only….older, for some reason.

 

Cristiano shyly turned around in the mirror, marveling at his choice of blush pink velvet shorts that were cut so tiny as to barely cover anything, in fact showing a tiny sliver of the swell of his bum, sweetly peeking out. He blushed to see himself, exposed like this.

 

And then Cristiano slowly, gingerly, tugged his shorts down, revealing the flat plane of his lower belly, the sharp vee’s of his hipbones chiseled down to meet at his groin, and then, with another rush of blood to his face, Cristiano pulled his shorts all the way down, letting them fall down his legs to pool at his ankles.

 

His dick hung between his legs, quiet and soft. Cristiano noted with some disappointment that he looked much the same down there…except for the complete lack of hair, the skin velvety soft against his hands.

  
Cristiano wondered to himself if older him was now waxing, as he tried to look at himself closer in the mirror.

 

But Cristiano wasn’t finished with the surprises. As he leaned in closer to check, he noticed a tiny flash of scintillation, like a gem in the corner of his eye.

 

Cristiano breathed, in complete shock, as he lifted a hand to his chest, gently brushing his hand over the tiny little diamond studs that were embedded in his nipples, hard little buds that carried their burdens proudly.

 

He casually brushed a nail over his right nipple, and hissed at the sensation, the feeling jolting straight to his groin, a sweet tenderness that reminded him of Rio’s mouth for a moment.

 

Cristiano withdrew his hand, and quickly pulled up his shorts again, still feeling an odd pang of guilt, as if he had done something wrong. He stared at his reflection on the mirror, so close he could nearly bump foreheads with it, the eyes wide with shock and a little bit of fear. The eyes still the exact same color, the eyes Cristiano knew, deep down, as being his, no matter what insanity had caught him in its grasp.

 

 _What is happening_. Cristiano thought numbly, letting his forehead brush against the chill of the mirror.

 

Then Cristiano noticed something in the mirror move, what he took for the background detaching itself, moving, the shape of a man, lithely walking up behind him.

 

“Cristiano.” A low voice laughed, as strong, muscled arms wrapped themselves around him, holding Cris’s body wordlessly with ease, as if he was familiar with it. “You’re always so vain on your birthdays.”

 

And as Cristiano whipped his head around in a panic, he saw a face coming closer to his, a hand on his chin, steadying him and holding him in place. A mouth pressed against his, a firm bite against Cristiano’s bottom lip, and then delving into his mouth, thoroughly claiming him, not allowing Cris to speak aloud or even struggle. It was clear that the man expected Cris to simply stand still, and let him take whatever he pleased.

 

 _Is Zinedine Zidane actually kissing me_. Cristiano thought in complete disbelief. _What the fuck._

Without letting go of Cristiano, or stopping to pause kissing him thoroughly, Zidane’s hand began to run all over Cris’s body, first tickling him by running his thumbnail up Cris’s side, before slowly feeling up Cristiano’s abdomen, his hand finally cupping around Cristiano’s nipple. His fingers, clearly practiced, began to play with Cristiano’s tiny little stud, Cris jumping at the sensation, Zidane taking the opportunity to Cris even deeper, his tongue slick against Cris’s.

_What the FUCK is happening._

Cristiano moaned in Zidane’s mouth, protesting, trying to break free so he could speak, ask the French player what on earth he was doing.  


But instead of letting him free, Zidane’s fingers only played with Cristiano’s body the more, a wicked little roll of his fingers that was making Cris’s toes curl, his other hand leaving Cristiano’s chin to roughly yank down his little velvet shorts, Cristiano’s eyes flying open as he was left fully naked in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection, his body twitching as Zidane’s fingers continued to play with him, the man still kissing him, stopping his cries. He caught the way his eyes widened in panic, as Zidane suddenly withdrew, and shoved Cris down bending him over the countertop.

 

“Don’t!” Cristiano cried, struggling against Zidane’s firm hand, planted on the back of his neck, pressing him against the cold granite of the bathroom top, unable to right himself as he felt Zidane press himself flush against Cristiano’s hips, forcing his legs open with a well placed knee. “I don’t want this! Zinedine, sir, please!”

 

Cristiano heard a chuckle from behind him as he heard the sound of Zidane unzipping himself. “So polite, all of a sudden. Are we roleplaying now?”

 

Cristiano hid his face in his arms, trying to fight down a tear rasped hiccup, as he felt Zidane free himself, the heavy weight of his erect cock lying against the crease of his ass.

 

“Please, sir.” Cristiano heard himself begging, every nerve in his body on edge. “Please.” Cris felt Zidane spreading him open, only a few seconds more and he’d be….

 

“So sweet for me.” Zidane purred. “Acting like this is your first time.” Cristiano felt Zidane’s hips withdraw slightly as he lined himself up against the most vulnerable part of Cris, the tension coiling as he readied to take his first thrust---

 

The sound of a cellphone ringing cut through the air, the sharp musical tones making the both of them look up.

 

Zidane smoothly pulled out something out of his pocket, Cristiano narrowing his eyes trying to make sense of what essentially looked like a flat rectangle as Zidane answered the phone with a crisp greeting. “Zidane.”

 

He listened to the voice on the other end for a couple of moments, before replying back shortly a few words in French, and hanging up.

 

“I’m sorry, Cristiano.” Zidane said, his hand letting go of Cris’s neck, and pulling back from him, as he zipped himself back up and brushed his clothes neat with his hands. “I need to get to work immediately.”

 

Cristiano got himself up on his elbows in a daze, turning around to stare at Zidane, who was nonchalantly getting himself ready to go, changing his mind in an instant not to fuck Cris.

 

Zidane paused for a moment, with his hand on the doorknob, turning back to look at Cristiano. “I want to touch base with you, before I go.”

 

Cristiano nodded, his face burning, finding himself unable to speak.

 

“You do remember your safeword, yes?”

 

Cristiano had absolutely no idea what Zidane was talking about, but he nodded his head furiously, anything to make the man go, and leave him alone.

 

Zidane smiled, and leaned forward, kissing Cristiano quickly on the mouth, a quick pressure and the man was leaving, thank God, leaving Cristiano to collapse on the ground, breathing far too quickly, wondering what on earth just happened to him.

 

* * *

 

As Cristiano explored the house, the information he gleaned confused him then answered his questions, more often that not.

 

There was no explanation for why he was here, in the future. Cristiano could only gape at the giant flat screen TV that took up a whole wall on one of the living rooms, the remote control still making sense to him, marveling as he turned on the television to a news channel.

 

As the voice of the news anchor reverberated throughout the house, Cristiano continued to softly make his way around the place, half afraid he would run into someone else, or god forbid, the real Cristiano Ronaldo who belonged here. He gawped at a display case of trophies, leaning in close to read his name on them.

 

“I’m playing for Real Madrid now?” Cristiano breathed, his heart stuttering in his chest. “And I won a Balon D’or? _Multiple_ Balon D’ors?”

 

He counted the trophies quickly. “Wait, there’s only four here. I thought I would have won more than this by now.”

 

Nonplussed, Cristiano got up. The emptiness in his stomach reminded him to find the kitchen somewhere, to grab something to eat.

 

He walked around the giant mansion in a daze, trying to find his way to the kitchen. He followed a path of tiles, hoping for a refrigerator at the end of it. He perked up as he saw a granite countertop at the end of the hallway along with cupboards, started to jog along, ready to grab something quickly to eat.

 

By the time Cristiano heard the sound of a microwave pinging, alerting that it had finished, and processed what that meant, it was too late, and he had already burst into the kitchen.

 

Where someone was already there, turning around to look quizzically at Cris, as he turned pale.

 

It was a man, full grown, a soft shock of auburn hair that was a complete birds nest, his eyes comically wide as he stood in front of the refrigerator door, caught in the act of drinking the milk straight from the carton. His shoulders and arms were thickly covered in tattoos, all the way down to his hands.

 

“Cris!” The man yelped, tossing the carton back into the fridge and slamming the door shut. “Uh…you didn’t see anything.”

 

“Um….yeah.” Cristiano tried.

 

_Who the heck was this clown?_

 

The man tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, looking back at Cristiano. “You’re…not mad?”

 

“….Guess not?”

 

The man broke into a wide smile. “Great!” He then opened the fridge door and lifted the milk carton out again, drinking huge gulps from it.

 

_Why is he drinking others peoples milk from the carton._

 

As Cristiano walked up to him cautiously, rounding around the granite island that was between them, he realized with a shock that the man wasn’t wearing a thing.

 

“You’re naked!” Cristiano hissed, making the other man turn around with raised eyebrows.

 

“Uh….yeah?” The man said, taking another swallow of milk. “You came all over the front of my shirt and jeans last night. And then when Zizou had you on the floor on all fours you guys managed to ruin my clothes even more. I put them in the washer, hope you don’t mind.” The man paused to look at Cristiano’s gobsmacked expression, looking as if he had been struck by lightening. “Cris….you do remember right? You’re looking at me like I’m someone you’ve never seen before.”

 

Cristiano closed his mouth with a click, letting his gaze fall. God, he must have been blushing pretty much all morning, his face was still tingling, a fresh hot wave of embarrassment in his chest as his imagination raced, visualizing himself on all fours getting plowed by Zinedine Zidane. Wondering how exactly the man in front of him must have played with his body to get him to spill over his clothes.

 

“Cris?” The man’s brow was furrowed, still looking at him. “You okay? You look really red in the face.”

 

“I-I’m fine!” Cristiano sputtered, waving away his speculations about him…and the man in front of him. He honestly didn’t look terrible, Cris had to admit to himself. The man was clearly fit, his lean athlete’s body meaning he was most likely a teammate of Cris at Real Madrid. And Cristiano always had a secret thing for tattoos and stubble, admiring the bad boy look of them. As he glanced quickly up at the man’s face, he noticed the light brown eyes, pausing for a moment on his mouth, before looking away again.

 

“You should put on some clothes though.” Cristiano gestured vaguely at the man’s lower area. The stranger’s expression of confusion only deepened at the gesture. “You can’t just go around someone’s house with…with your penis out.”

 

“My what.” The man said, his expression of confusion deepening.

 

“Your…your penis.” Cristiano gesturing more frantically at the man. “You know. Your…erectile…organ?”

 

The man’s voice was slack with absolute horror.

 

“Who are you?” He breathed, taking a step closer to Cristiano. “What have you done with the real Cris?”

 

Cristiano’s heart stopped in terror.

 

The man took another step closer. “Did you hit your head, Cris?”

 

Cristiano shook his head, mutely, taking another step back, his eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape route. His back hit the edge of the granite countertop.

 

“Are you…an alien?” The man hazarded, stepping even closer, trapping Cristiano against the countertop.

 

Cristiano shook his head again, arching against the countertop in an unconscious attempt to escape, as the man bracketed him against the island, trapping him with his arms. Cris clutched his arms to his chest as the man moved in closer to him.

 

The man leaned in closer, his mouth at Cristiano’s ear, his breath tickling him as he spoke.

 

“Did you suddenly travel through time and wind up in your older self’s body, without any of the memories of the time in between?”

 

Cristiano quickly turned his head to face the mans, his eyes wide.

 

The man looked back at him, a smile slowly starting to break on his face, a huge grin as he began to laugh, suddenly enfolding Cristiano in a giant hug. “I guessed right!”

 

* * *

 

 

“It happened to you too?” Cristiano asked in disbelief.

 

“Yup.” Sergio said, now polishing off all the yogurt cups that he had found in Cristiano’s refrigerator, Cris unwillingly impressed by the amount of food that Sergio could fit into his mouth. “Only I didn’t go back so far in time, I still ended up at Real Madrid.”

 

“How did you get out of it?” Cristiano breathed, curled up into himself on the couch. “How do I go back?”

 

“Uh.” Sergio paused from shoveling yogurt in his face. “I got to be honest with you. I’m not sure?”

 

“How can you not be sure?” Cristiano snapped, then curled back in himself. “Sorry.”

 

“Man, it’s so weird to see like this. Back when you were still a nice little boy.” Sergio shook his head sadly. “Your grown self is such a meanie sometimes, he makes me cry at night.”

 

“Probably all your fault.” Cristiano retorted.

 

Sergio sighed heavily. “See? That native sass is showing up already.”

 

“Stop eating all my food and tell me what to do already.” Cristiano groaned.

 

“I really don’t know!” Sergio shrugged his shoulders. “I just remember having a bomb ass time, drinking, partying, having a lot of sex…eventually I just woke up one day and I was back to my own self.”

 

“Did anything change? From you being in the past?” Cristiano asked, fear on his face.

 

“Uh…honestly I didn’t really do anything that was much different than how I usually did when I was younger. I didn’t really notice that much of a change.”

 

“But it does happen?” Cristiano breathed.

 

Sergio scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly bashful. “A little bit, yeah….”

 

“Oh my God.” Cristiano groaned. “Oh no. What if my future self ends up changing my past completely? And what if I ruin things for him here? I don’t know how he plays, what kind of team dynamic he’s used to. I don’t even know anyone on my team, or anyone in this city.” Cristiano tried to fight down his sudden feelings of despair, knowing that he was easily on the brink of tears.

 

Sergio had suddenly straightened, dropping the yogurt cup on the table, looking at Cristiano with something like real fear in his eyes.

 

“What?” Cristiano asked.

 

“Holy shit.” Sergio whispered. “I didn’t even think about all your boyfriends.”

 

“What.” Cristiano replied in confusion. “Boyfriends? Plural?”

 

Sergio laughed hollowly. “Oh my God, baby Cris, you have _no_ idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Why is everyone on my phone sending me pictures of their penis?!” Cristiano sputtered, as he swiped down his numberless texts from endless men, all sending him heart emojis, kiss emojis, questions about what he was doing….and pictures of their erections. Dark lighting, bright bathroom lighting, against the covers of bedsheets, or holding it up against their unbuttoned pants. Just a veritable waterfall of dicks all on his screen.

 

“It’s called a dick pic, baby Cris, get with the lingo.” Sergio snorted. “Also, can I just say that while it’s also adorable, _erectile organ_ is just about the most unsexy word I’ve ever heard out of your mouth.”

 

“Well what should I call it instead?” Cristiano responded hotly, still scrolling down his phone in horror.

 

“Cock? Dick? Pleasure stick? Thundering meat tower?”

 

“Shut up.” Cristiano groaned. “God, you’re worse than Geri.”

 

“Geri?” Sergio wondered. Then his eyes widened. “Geri? As in _Gerard Pique_?”

 

“We’re teammates in Manchester.” Cristiano replied. “And friends…I think.” Cris said softly, turning off the phone.

 

“Uh.” Sergio hissed through his teeth, making a face of discomfort. “How should I put this. You guys haven’t been friends for a very long time now.”

 

Cristiano bit his lip. “Why? What happened?”

 

“I don’t know what happened, per se.” Sergio said, rolling his eyes. “But what I know is that I have to listen to him bitch about you 24/7 when we’re training on the national team together, and let me tell you, hearing that shit gets _really old_. That guy is like unhealthily obsessed with you. He’s always talking about how overrated you are to the press. And in the locker room…” Sergio shook his head.

 

“What does he say?”

 

“It’s not nice.” Sergio said grimly. “He talks how you and him used to be ‘an item’. How he knows every inch of your body, how sweetly you beg on your knees for his monster cock. Also about how he’s the only one that you call daddy. That sort of thing.” Sergio grimaced.

 

“Daddy?” Cristiano scrunched up his face in disgust. “Ew. I don’t wanna think about my father when I’m with someone.”

 

Sergio remained oddly silent, his gaze averted to the ground. He chose the moment to shovel key lime pie yogurt into his mouth rapidly.

 

“Not to mention…”

 

“Not to mention what?”

 

“I’ve never been with him that way.” Cristiano said softly, curling up into a tight ball. “I can’t believe Geri would ever talk about me like that. It’s not like him. He’s so nice to me. Sometimes he drinks too much…and he’s not himself…but he’s not like that.”

 

“A true ‘nice guy’.” Sergio said, with air quotes.

  

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Cristiano walked into the Manchester United locker room that morning, Ruud was waiting for him at the entrance, a crude smile on his face.

 

“Ronnie.” He crooned, his body blocking the entranceway so Cristiano couldn’t pass him. “How was your night last night? Was it nice? Did you like taking Rio’s fat cock up your ass?”

 

Ruud laughed out loud before Cristiano could answer, leaning over to smack Cristiano hard on the ass, pausing to dig his fingers into Cris’s haunches. “Bet your tight little behind’s hurting right now.”

 

Without speaking another word, Cristiano Ronaldo stepped closer, and headbutted Ruud, smashing his head against his nose.

 

There was a howl of pain, Ruud’s hands leaping to his streaming nose, his face smeared with blood, falling backwards hard as tears streamed out of his eyes.

 

Cristiano walked up silently, hovering above Ruud, his young face still and terrible.

 

“Don’t you ever touch me again.” He said flatly.

 

And Cristiano strode off, past a few teammates, their expression frankly and completely in shock, backing up against the lockers as to not brush against Cris.

 

Geri had seen what happened, and he whistled, eyes wide as Cristiano walked up closer. “Shit, Cris, are you a badass now?”

 

Cristiano glared daggers at Gerard, who opened his mouth to sputter something, before closing it tight, and looking away.


	3. Chapter 3

When Rio finally entered the locker room, he noticed odd clumps of his teammates tightly huddled together, all in low conversation with each other, a low hum that vanished instantaneously the moment he entered the room, everyone’s eyes upon him.

 

Rio hadn’t expected quite so much frank speculation about him and Cristiano last night, not in the open at least. Still, he only lifted his chin, and calmly strode past everyone, who was staring at him openly. He noted that Ruud was missing.

 

His eyes lit up as he saw Cristiano changing, on the process of pulling on his kit. He had just pulled down the hem of his shirt, and was stepping out of his jeans, when he looked up to see Rio walking up to him.

 

“Rio.” Cristiano murmured, a lazy slow smile breaking on his face.

 

Rio smiled too, as he stepped closer to steal a kiss, their usual ritual, Cristiano usually jumping away, hiding his face, refusing to let Rio kiss him as Rio laughed and tried to manhandle him into a peck on the cheek.

 

But this time Cristiano surged forward to meet him with sleepy dark eyes, his arms draping sinuously around his neck, his mouth meeting Rio’s in an unexpected kiss, Cristiano sighing breathily as he licked the seam of his mouth, begging Rio to deepen the kiss.

 

Rio instead was the one who leaned away, holding Cristiano slightly apart as he gaped at the boy, who was clinging onto his neck for dear life, his pout deepening as his lover stared at him in surprise. “Cristiano.” He could only say.

 

“Guess Ronnie and Rio had a nice time last night.” A voice said lowly, cutting through the moment. But as Rio looked up to glare at the speaker, he noticed that there hadn’t been the answering laughter he would have expected from the others. In fact, everyone was still in their tight groups, tensely staring at them.

 

“Do you know what’s wrong?” Rio asked in confusion to Cristiano.

 

Cristiano shook his head slowly, looking up through his lashes at Rio, his full mouth still in a pout. “Ruud had a bit of a fall just now. I think everyone’s all shook up about that.” Cristiano turned to look at everyone else, who was staring at them. “Isn’t that right?” He said, with a sharp touch of steel in his voice, that made Rio tilt his head to hear.

 

To Rio’s surprise, none of the grown men standing there could hold Cristiano’s gaze. To a man, all of them merely dropped their head, turned away, and the buzz of conversation started up again in the locker room.

 

“Cristiano,” Rio admonished, as he turned back to face the boy who was still holding onto him, biting his plush lower lip as he stared longingly at Rio’s mouth. Rio felt a sudden quickening of desire pulse in his groin, the frank expression of want on Cristiano’s face, usually so shy and innocent, firing his blood. Still, he had to have answers to his questions. “What is going on? What has gotten into you today?”

 

“Nothing’s in me today.” Cristiano said in a soft sleepy tone, holding his young body flush against Rio’s, Rio inhaling as he noticed that Cristiano was bare legged waist down, displaying himself like this in front of everyone in a pair of briefs. “But I’d like to change that. Tonight.”

 

“You’re not yourself. At all.” Rio went on doggedly, refusing to let his voice break as Cristiano pressed himself even more tightly against Rio. “I remember last week when you hit me on the arm for trying to hug you from behind in the locker room.”

 

“That was a week ago.” Cristiano pouted. “I’m an adult now. Eighteen, Rio.”

 

Rio, facing him, didn’t notice how Cristiano’s hands around his neck lifted to do air quotes.

 

Rio shook his head softly. “Cristiano. Is this about last night?”

 

Cristiano licked his lips, a kitten quick movement of his pink tongue, Cris lifting his chin, offering his mouth, pleading for a kiss. It was a movement that nearly undid Rio, right then and there, as he swayed within the boy’s embrace, almost caught in Cris’s thrall. Cris was never this demonstrative with him, the boy he was familiar with absolutely chary of any public displays of affection with Rio, and even in bed, preferring to let Rio take the lead, gasping softly and arching into Rio’s touch as he flushed pink from head to toe.

 

But instead, Rio, leaning in, only pressed a chaste kiss against Cristiano’s cheek, a movement that satisfied neither party, Rio hearing a huff of frustration as they broke apart.

 

“You’re still too young.” Rio said firmly. “Not until you’re ready.”

 

As Rio left to go change by his locker, Cristiano in a temper turned to see Geri gaping at him, mouth wide.

 

“Did you guys actually fuck last night?” He asked.

 

Cristiano narrowed his eyes at him, and Geri practically scurried away in his haste.

 

* * *

 

 

“God.” Cristiano fumed, as he left the locker room after training, Geri following behind him, having to hurry to keep up with his pace. “You’d think at eighteen I’d be getting dicked down at least ten times a day. Can’t believe I used to be a nerd virgin who can’t even get his boyfriend to hold hands with him.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Geri said, utterly lost at sea. “Holy shit, did we even experience the same practice? You fucking embarrassed every one out there! You scored so many goals Ferguson had to pull you out and tell you to stop showing off! Who are you?”

 

“Okay, Pique, first of all.” Cristiano spun around to face Gerard. “We’re not friends. We are never being friends again after last night.”

 

“Cris, come on.” Geri whined, making an exaggerated frowny face. Cristiano was annoyed at finding a twinge of fondness in heart as he looked back on Pique’s face, the afternoon sunlight brightening his sandy hair into bright locks of blonde.

 

 _He used to be so sweet, once._ Cristiano thought, and turned away without replying.

 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Geri huffed behind him as he tried to keep up with Cristiano. “I’m sorry if I was too rough with you last night. I’m even sorry for splitting your lip. Happy?”

 

Cristiano strode forward to his car, without looking back or saying a word.

 

“Hey!”

 

And suddenly Geri had his hands on his shoulders, spinning him around, Cristiano losing his balance and landing against the side of his car, hard.

 

And Geri was looming over him, using every inch of his height to bracket Cristiano in with his arms, his expression wide eyed and serious.

 

“Cris.” Geri breathed. “Don’t be like that. Come on.”

 

Cristiano found his mind appallingly blank, unable to move. An icy stab of fear in his chest, keeping Cris frozen, as Geri pulled a hand down to reach for Cris’s own.

 

Lifting Cris’s limp hand to cradle them both against his chest, Geri went on. “It’s me, okay? I’m your friend. You call me all the time at night. We tag team on Legend on Zelda because we’re both shit at the puzzles. Hell, I’ve met your mom, even. Don’t be like this just because we got in a fight last night.”

 

“Got in a fight?” Cristiano stared at Geri stonefaced. “Is that what you call it?”

 

“I mean…I don’t remember a whole lot of it.” Geri shrugged. “I just remember you leaving me alone to hang out with your dumb boyfriend all night. I took a bottle off the table and maybe drank too much, I don’t know. I just remember waiting for you to come out already so we could like talk, and you were just taking forever and I kinda…kinda didn’t handle it well.”

 

Cristiano smiled grimly at Geri, tightening the hand Geri was holding into a fist. “No kidding. Now get off me.”

 

Geri groaned, but didn’t let go of Cristiano. “Are you even listening to what I’m trying to say to you?”

 

“You mean the way you’re trying to convince me that what happened last night wasn’t a big deal, without actually saying you won’t ever attack me like that again?” Cristiano leaned in abruptly into Geri’s space, Geri’s mouth falling open in surprise as Cris gripped his hand hard, so close their faces were only a few inches apart from each other.

 

“I know what kind of person you are, Pique.” Cristiano said in a low tone, never breaking eye contact with Geri. “I know what you’re trying to do. And I’m telling you no, right now. I’m not doing it. I’m not letting you hurt me.”

 

“I would never hurt you.” Geri breathed, blinking fast. “I mean, except for backhanding you last night.”

 

Instead of answering, Cristiano pushed Geri back with his hand, forcing him back a few steps. Without looking back, he got into his car, and pointedly locked the doors.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Cristiano curled up on the couch, his couch now, as he turned on the television.

 

It was rather late in the night, Sergio having finally gone home in his clean clothes, after attempting to bring Cristiano up to speed on the past decade and a half of his life.

 

“I have a son?” Cristiano’s jaw dropped as Sergio showed him some of the pictures around the house. “I thought that was a nephew.”

 

“Junior.” Sergio nodded. “He’s a cute kid. He’s doing some sort of summer camp in Portugal, so your mom’s got him for the next few months.”

 

“Whoa.” Cristiano held the frame in his hands for a moment, delicately tracing out the features of Junior’s face. “Does this mean I got married?”

 

Sergio coughed delicately. “Well…no one knows who’s Junior’s mom, actually. You just brought home a newborn boy after the World Cup and was like ‘yup, this is my son.’ to everyone. People were speculating he was from a one night stand, or even a surrogate.”

 

“He’s mine though.” Cristiano smiled softly, still looking at Junior’s photo. “I can’t believe it. I always wanted to be a dad.”

 

“You’re his whole world.” Sergio rested his chin on Cristiano’s shoulder, as they both gazed on the photo, Junior posing proudly on the grass with a football, a line of his stuffed animals in the forefront. “Even if he gets mad at you sometimes and insists he wants to be a goalkeeper instead of a striker.”

 

Cristiano rolled his eyes and laughed, putting away the frame. “Absolutely no son of mine will grow up to be a keeper.”

 

“That’s what big Cris said too.” Sergio said, pulling away to reach for something. “Okay, now. You need to study this.”

 

Sergio dropped a heavy book on Cristiano’s lap, Cristiano surprised at the heft of it as he lifted it to turn the pages. “What is this?” He asked, eyes wide.

 

“It’s a record of your career.” Sergio said, sitting next to Cristiano, the warmth of his body flush against Cris, as Sergio rested his arm over the top of the sofa cushion that Cris was seated against. “You should take a quick look at this, just to know what’s happened to you.”

 

“Oh.” Cris bit his lip, as he skimmed through the pages, pictures of him over the years, his triumphs, his losses, an overarching story culminating into a climax of a single year—

 

“Portugal won?” Cristiano breathed, blinking quickly as his hand stopped on one of the pages. “We won the Euro for the first time?”

 

“Yeah, that was amazing.” Sergio chuckled. “France ate so much humble pie for that game. You really scared us at the beginning of the game though, when that guy knocked you down and hurt your knee. Zizou was watching the game with us, and he nearly punched the wall when he saw that.”

 

Cristiano sighed. “I wish…I wish we could have won that game against Greece. When Luis was captain. We had the dream team then, it would have been perfect. The best possible way for Luis to retire.”

 

“But you won it as captain.” Sergio smiled fondly at Cristiano, his hand lifting to brush Cris’s cheek fondly. “And you had your dream year along with it. That was all you.”

 

Cristiano sighed again, his heart shiveringly full of emotion, elation and pride and a tiny bit of sadness all prickling his skin all over. His future was everything he could have dreamt of, playing with Real Madrid, countless victories and awards, as well as being father to a healthy and happy child. He remembered the lonely nights when he was still very young, first sent off football camp and cut to the bone with homesickness. He remembered all the times in England when things had all felt too heavy on his shoulders—his fathers ill health and his constant demands for money, his mother and siblings all too far away, the way some of teammates picked on him for his youth.

 

This heavy book, weighing down his bones, was proof that it was all worth it.

 

And yet, as Cristiano had waved Sergio goodbye, and had settled down on the couch, overwhelmed with all that had happened to him in just a single day, he had wondered, still.

 

Cris gingerly turned on the television, trying to figure out how exactly it worked for a good ten minutes. Eventually, he found a pay-for-view sports channel, and was scrolling down for games to watch.

 

At first he had planned to bring up one of his more recent games, to see how his play style had changed. Judging from the build of his body, as well as the aches and pain in his knees, Cris would have bet money that his old lightning speed was no longer as reliable.

 

But then his eyes alighted on another game, the name Barcelona jumping out at him.

 

Sergio had mentioned that Geri was now playing for them, and Cris had secretly smiled inside at the news. He knew Geri had been raised in their youth teams, and had always wanted to go back.

 

 _He made it too._ Cristiano felt a tug of warmth in his chest, as he picked the game without a second thought, curious to see what the years had made of Gerard Pique.

 

The game was a fairly recent one, and Cristiano hugged himself as he glanced curiously at the unknown faces in the distinctive jewel-toned red and blue kits. He noticed someone jogging to position in a number 10 jersey, Cris studying the face of whom Sergio had said was his biggest rival.

 

“Doesn’t make sense though.” Cristiano said to himself, as he watched the man on the screen ready himself for the whistle. “He’s in midfield. How would they even compare us?”

 

He _was_ good though, Cristiano had to admit to himself, as the game progressed. In a quick turn of a moment, Barcelona lost possession of the ball, a player in black streaking down the pitch with it, the other members of team moving in like clockwork into position—

 

And Cristiano’s breath caught, as Gerard Pique finally stormed into view, engaging neatly with the man to steal the ball back, breaking the momentum of the opposing team.

 

Geri had to have put on a few more inches, Cris thought to himself. He frankly towered over the other players, his height giving him an aggressive edge that the other defenders didn’t possess. And while Geri had always been a bit more built, always a bit bigger than Cris, the Geri on the screen was powerfully muscled, a full grown man now instead of the lanky boy Cris had once known. Cris didn’t even notice he was staring, every limb completely still, biting the nail of his thumb as the camera focused on the broad swell of Geri’s back as he ran in slow motion, the slow movement of his body turning itself in profile view, as his jewel blue eyes focused on something in the middle distance, his mouth slightly parted as he panted.

 

The camera changed its angle, and focused on another area of the pitch, and Cristiano remembered to inhale, blinking as he realized where he was.

 

True, Geri had changed a great deal since their days together as teammates. He now sported some of the same artful scruff that Sergio did, and his features had grown rougher, more masculine over the years—his once long hair now cut closely, his chest and shoulders broad and thick.

 

But God, Cris still couldn’t tear his eyes away from his friend, no matter how the years had changed him, changed the both of them, Geri a meteor of red and blue across the grass.

 

Suddenly Cristiano’s phone buzzed, with a green message on the screen. Gingerly reaching over to pick it up, Sergio’s text distracting him from the game.

 

_Yoooooooooo i just remembered something._

 

Cristiano carefully tapped out a response, annoyed by how often his thumbs tapped the wrong letters. Eventually he managed to send a reply back.

 

_What did you forget?_

_Did i mention that we got practice tomorrow._

Cristiano felt his heart sink.

 

_What? No, you didn’t! What time is it?!_

_don’t worry ill pick u up._

A little ellipses bubble popped up on the screen, as Sergio continued typing something.

 

_may have also forgot to mention_

_that ur gonna meet some more of your boyfriends tomorrow at practice_

_u know. at the practice. the team practice. the practice with ur teammates. and some of ur boyfriends. the friends that are boys. the boys that u like to have sex with._

_K GOOD NIGHT LOVE U_

Cristiano was left staring at his phone in horror.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey.” The dark haired boy smiled at Cristiano.

 

“…Hey.” Cris rejoined after a moment, cursing himself for the awkward pause. But at the same time, he’d been caught off guard, the way he had been all morning long today—waking up to Sergio calling him on his phone, trying to work out how to answer his phone, Sergio pulling up in front of his house yelling that they were going to be late for practice.

 

“Who is that?” Cris whispered to Sergio, as the dark haired boy walked up ahead, catching up to another group of men, who all greeted him with a laugh.

 

“Him? That’s James.” Sergio cut Cristiano a look, with a sly little smile as he nudged Cris. “You got a little crush already?”

 

“What? No!” Cristiano shoved his shoulder back into Sergio, ducking his head. “Stop asking me if I have a crush on everyone!”

 

Sergio waggled his eyebrows at him. “You sure? Cause I know that sweet little thing has a big time crush on you.”

 

“Oh my God, shut up.” Cristiano said, glancing quickly at a pair of staff talking ahead of them. “People can hear you!”

 

And then, after a short pause, the two men far behind them, Cristiano asked in a quiet voice. “Really?”

 

“You have no idea how much. He’s been trying to lock it down for forever, now.”

 

“So we’re…seeing each other?” Cristiano guessed.

 

“Not exactly…but let’s just say one of your talents include… being something of a morale builder around here. Rallying the troops and whatnot. And you do some of your best work on your back.”

 

Cristiano shook his head. “Oh my God. I can’t imagine ever growing up to be this kind of a person. Not that I think it’s wrong!” He yelped as Sergio turned towards him with a puzzled expression. “I just…I just always believed that a person should have one love. One special person….” Cris trailed off.

 

“Well, you are definitely a special person, and if you happen to be that for a lot of guys that you know, and they’re okay with it…” Sergio shrugged. “Big Cris’s way has always been to share his love. It seems to suit him just fine.”

 

“It’s kinda funny hearing you say that though,” Sergio continued, as they rounded down another hallway, the sound of loud conversation and laughter growing as they walked on, Cris’s belly fluttering with nerves. “Because from when you first came to Real, you always said that you didn’t believe that in monogamy. Saying all this stuff about how you didn’t believe that you could love one person, for the rest of your lives. Kind of makes you wonder what happened to change your mind.”

 

Cristiano bit his lip, the nervousness coursing through his limbs not entirely from the situation at hand—meeting his teammates for what would be the first time, having to fake his way through the whole day, hoping that no one would catch him out.

 

“Anyways.” Sergio said, as they stood right outside the main locker room. “If you ever change your mind while you’re here, I’m just gonna say little James has like, the biggest dick you’ve ever seen.”

 

Cristiano sputtered, as Sergio put his arm around his, and marched him inside.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay Cris,” Sergio panted, resting his hands on his head, trying to catch his breath. “Remember earlier when I told you that practice would be chill, not to worry about it?”

 

“Yeah?” Cristiano mumbled, trying to do some ginger cooldown stretches, hissing as he did so.

 

“Scratch that. What the hell was that run you just did? This is just training, not a real game. I never heard Zizou yell at you so much after you went down like that.”

 

“I didn’t know I’d cramp up that fast.” Cristiano said in a low voice. “Or that my calf would start hurting so much.”

 

“Oh man.” Sergio groaned. “You don’t know about your old injuries. Fuck.”

 

“Maybe if someone wasn’t trying to stuff their face full of dairy yesterday they would have told me everything I needed to know for today.” Cristiano flared.

 

Before Sergio could reply, James jogged up to them, concern writ over his face. “Are you all right?” He asked. “You look like you’re in real pain.”

 

“I’m fine.” Cristiano gritted, as he tried to deepen his stretch.

 

“You didn’t look fine, earlier.” James went on. “I heard from Isco that Zidane’s going to bench you next game.”

 

“What?” Cristiano’s head shot up. “He can’t do that!”

 

Sergio and James both glanced at each other, a strange look of recognition passing between them, before Sergio got up with his arms out, placing them firmly on Cristiano’s shoulders, his eyes wide with something that looked a lot like apprehension.

 

“Cris. Baby Cris.” Sergio said in a low, soothing tone, as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. “You gotta take a deep breath now.”

 

“How can you expect me to calm down?” Cristiano snapped, trying to tug off Sergio’s hands. “I can’t skip the next game! He can’t just punish me like this!”

 

“He kind of can, he’s the coach.”

 

James looked uncomfortable as he nodded his head in agreement. “You can’t even walk properly right now. I think Zidane’s right.”

 

“Isn’t our next game soon?” Cristiano angrily batted off Sergio’s hand, huffing his irritation as he faced off the two of them. “The team needs me!”

 

“You can still support the team.” Sergio said.

 

“How am I supposed to do that?” Cristiano said, crossing his arms. “I’m supposed to play. I can’t do shit if I’m on the bench.”

 

“You could get little pom poms and a little short skirt.” Sergio quipped. “Cheer for us from the side.”

 

Before Cris could sputter a reply, James coughed loudly, and the two of them turned to look at him, Cristiano realizing that James was blushing just as hard as he was, arms on his hips and his eyes fixed on the ground as if there was something completely fascinating unfolding in the grass.

 

“Eh, don’t lie.” Sergio nudged James in the upper arm with a sly smile. “You like that idea.”

 

James cleared his throat and visibly pulled himself straight. “Anyways. Cristiano, I think Zidane would probably like to talk to you. You’d better find him,”

 

As James ran off to meet up with another group, Sergio raised his eyebrows at Cristiano. “See what I mean? Little boy’s got it real bad.”

 

“Stop it.” Cristiano rolled his eyes. “This is serious. I’m going to talk with Zinedine.”

 

“Oh come on, admit it.” Sergio continued talking to Cristiano, easily keeping up with Cris who was trying to keep a pace that would lose his friend without jarring his leg too much. “Tell me you don’t notice. I know I saw you trying to sneak a peek when he was changing out of his jeans.”

 

Cristiano groaned, trying to shake Sergio off. “Leave me alone, please.”

 

“Also, I know you’re just being polite and trying to respect your elders and whatnot, but probably shouldn’t call Zizou by his first name like that. He’ll be suspicious instantly, you guys haven’t been formal for years now.”

 

“Do I…does the grownup me call him Zizou too?” Cristiano shivered, thinking back to yesterday, and how he’d been surprised in the bathroom, being kissed all of a sudden by a player that he had always idolized in the abstract. Having his clothes pulled off him and bent over the counter like that. As if the man and him had been lovers, and for a long time.

 

“For the most part, unless you’re mad at him.” Sergio shook his head. “Please don’t get mad at him, baby Cris. You call him Zidane, he gets grim and works us like dogs, everyone suffers. Just…talk out your feelings like rational calm people? Maybe give him a kiss at the end?”

 

“I just can’t believe I’m actually together with him in that way.” Cristiano muttered under his breath. “Everything in the future’s so strange.”

 

“Shit, there he is.” Sergio said, pulling up abruptly short. Cristiano saw the man turn, his posture ramrod straight, his expression unreadable as he met his eyes. “I better go. Remember, _go easy_ on him. I want to go home before dinner.”

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Cristiano walked up to Zidane, about to start his litany of arguments, Zidane narrowed his eyes at him and said “Stop.”

 

“What do you mean, stop?” Cristiano sputtered. “I didn’t even start talking.” And then, wilting under Zidane’s stare, Cris added a petulant “Sir.”

 

“I know what you’re here for.” Zidane said, turning around and walking down into the entranceway, forcing Cristiano to follow after him at a clip that was almost too quick for him. “And my decision is final. You’re sitting out the next game.”

 

Cristiano shook his head, trying to keep up. “Sir. I mean. Zinedine.” Cristiano saw Zidane turn around to glance behind him, and he quickly corrected himself. “Zizou. With all due respect, you still need me out there.”

 

“For a friendly?” Zidane abruptly turned sharply, making his way down a different hallway that Cristiano wasn’t familiar with, the area looking different, more business like. “I’m not having you re-injured before the season starts again. For the last time, my decision is final.”

 

“It’s not about it being a friendly,” Cristiano went on, as Zidane opened a door to an office space with glass walls that revealed a fairly imposing desk and chair within, most likely Zidane’s. “It’s about treating me like a child! You’re not trusting me to make this decision!”

 

Suddenly Zidane’s hand snaked out, and before Cristiano was aware, he was yanked into the room, the sound of the office door slamming shut behind him. Cristiano yelped as Zidane shoved him hard against the door, the man’s face suddenly alarmingly close to his, his body pinning Cris.

 

“I thought I’d made it clear.” Zidane growled in his ear, as he shook Cristiano, his hands gripping Cristiano by his arms. “You do not disrespect my final word. You do not argue with me in front of the others. I’m disappointed to see you act so disobedient again. I thought we had already discussed this far before.”

 

Cristiano wanted to argue, shake the man’s hands off and shout that Zidane had no right to order him about.

 

But Cristiano belatedly realized, as he gazed up at Zidane, that his body was relaxing, muscle memory taking over, his heart beat picking up instead as Zidane stared him down. Realizing that Zidane’s thigh was between his legs, spreading them open, realizing his body was naturally submitting to Zidane’s.

 

And then Zidane’s mouth was against his, a rough, hard kiss, Cristiano gasping in surprise, unable to fight against Zidane’s irontight grip, and unwilling to besides.

 

“You’re not getting out of this with just a kiss.” Zidane pulled away and snarled in Cristiano’s ear. “You know better that that.”

 

And before Cristiano could reply, Zidane’s hand were at his waistband, pulling down his shorts and underwear, exposing him.

 

“Don’t!” Cristiano yelped, trying to curl into himself, cover himself, if only Zidane’s hands weren’t gripping his wrists, keeping him naked from waist down, with only his shirt to save his modesty. “Anyone can see—“ His voice choked off as Zidane’s hand groped his ass, and he hid his face into Zidane’s shoulder, too overwhelmed to speak.

 

“No one’s in the offices at this time. And you should have thought about the consequences before you decided to be insubordinate. Now.” Zidane strode over to his desk, seating himself in the chair. “Strip yourself properly. Then come to me.”

 

Cristiano was shaking, finding himself speechless. Half from the fear coursing through his body, watching Zidane watch him with his predator eyes, waiting for him to obey.

 

Half from the lightning bolt of lust that illuminated his body, a pulse of want in his belly.

 

Cristiano knew what wanting was, of course, but the almost leisurely, slow aching warmth that filled his body when he was kissing Rio, was nothing compared to the unbearable ache as his cock began to stir between his legs, the surprise of humiliation at being exposed and toyed with like this mingling with surprise of his body mutely obeying Zidane, a strange fuzziness in his head as he quickly pulled off his shorts and briefs, the shirt, toeing off his shoes and then his socks.

 

Cris could hear himself shouting at himself in his head, telling his body to run away, to not let the man in front of him get the better of him, and yet his feet walked numbly forward, and he found himself standing in front of Zidane, his thighs flush against the edge of the desk. Presenting himself, silently, as a playtoy.

 

 _What is happening?_ Cristiano felt numb as Zidane gestured him to come closer.

 

And then another lightening fast movement, and Cristiano couldn’t help a cry as Zidane pulled him into his lap, pulling him off balance so he toppled into it on his belly. Realizing as Zidane easily adjusted him to balance, that Zidane meant to have him lying across his lap, completely naked, in an office that had glass walls for anyone to see him like this.

 

“You brought this on yourself, Cristiano.” Zidane murmured, not unkindly.

 

And then he raised his hand, and spanked Cristiano hard across his ass, a surprise strike that hurt, Cristiano tensing up, the pain enough to clear the fogginess in his head. Another hard slap on the same spot, the sound of it so loud Cristiano jerked his head, sure it would bring curious people to the door, peering in to see what was going on.

 

But no one came, and Cristiano bowed his head, trying to blink back the traitorous tears to his eyes as Zidane kept spanking him, hard slaps that made his ass ache, Cris unable to do anything but dangle uncomfortably in the man’s lap and take it.

 

“No...” Cristiano heard himself wailing softly. “No.”

 

“Hush.” Zidane said, another hit of his palm. “You like this.”

 

And to Cristiano’s horror, he found himself indeed, hardening even more against Zidane’s thighs, the friction of each slap forcing his cock against the fabric of the suit, a teasing, maddening sensation that mingled with the growing ache in his ass.

 

“Should I fuck you like this?” Zidane mused aloud, as he quickened the pace of his spanking, Cristiano whimpering with the pain. “Drag you back into the locker room with your bright red ass and take you on the bench? Use you as a warning to the others?”

 

Cristiano found himself unable to speak, his mouth falling open, as his skin ignited fire, his cock jumping at the thought of him being fucked like that, in public—

 

And when Zidane stopped, Cristiano heard himself whimpering, but not in relief. For more.

 

* * *

 

 

Sergio was waiting for a good half an hour at the locker room, looking at cat videos before Cristiano finally emerged from the hallway, his face bright red.

 

“Sup.” Sergio greeted him, standing up to stretch. “Geez, what took you guys so long?”

 

“We were talking.” Cristiano muttered.

 

“Talking. That sounds nice and civil.” Sergio held out his hand for a high five. “This means Zizou probably isn’t mad at all that you decided to argue with him, nice. Are you playing the next game?”

 

“No.” Cristiano frowned as he began changing quickly back into his clothes, leaving Sergio hanging.

 

“Um….” Sergio said. “Okay. That’s great. Take a rest and everything.”

 

“Sergio?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What do you do if…” Cristiano sighed, dropping his head, still not facing Sergio. “What am I like during sex?”

 

“Huh?” Sergio raised his eyebrows. “Uh. What brought this up?”

 

“Zidane....” Cristiano swallowed. “We did more than talking, back there.”

 

“Oh.” Sergio found himself saying. “Okay. Just like, kissing?”

 

“No.” Cristiano said in a small voice. “More than that.”

 

“Were you okay with it?” Sergio asked, the hair raising on his neck. “Shit. I also forgot to tell you. You and Zizou have like this fifty shades of grey thing going on. Dominance slash submission thing.” He added on quickly when Cristiano looked confused. “He doesn’t….really ask for permission now, because you guys have been together so long, you’ve worked out your dynamic. Though you guys have like, safe words and stuff.”

 

“What is that?”

 

“Like…a word you say, that’s out of context? Something that’s not “stop” or “no”. You say it, and Zizou understands to back off and let you be.” Sergio sighed. “I’m guessing he didn’t stop when you said no.”

 

Cristiano shook his head.

 

“Do you know your safe word?” Sergio asked.

 

Cristiano shook his head again.

 

“Okay. Shit.” Sergio exhaled, trying to think. “How about I go talk to him later. Explain to him that you had a bad comedown and you need a break for a couple of weeks.”

 

Cristiano nodded his head.

 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sergio said, scooting closer to Cristiano as he continued changing. “You don’t have to see him again that way if you don’t want to. He’ll understand.”

 

“It’s not that…” Cristiano mumbled. “I just…I just liked it a lot more than I thought I ever would. I didn’t think I was weird like that.”

 

“Hey.” Sergio put his hand over Cristiano’s locker door. “You’re not weird. Whatever you do. Whoever you do.” Cristiano groaned, Sergio’s heart lightening as the serious expression on his friends face faded. “As long as you’re down for it, and your partner is too. And they can consent. Or whatevs. Man, it’s really weird having the sex talk with you. I’ve known you as a grown ass adult for ages.”

 

Cristiano smiled a little as he sat down next to Sergio to put on his shoes. “You still haven’t told me what I’m like when we’re together.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, um, I’m not going to tell you, because it’s honestly a little weird because you’re still a baby and everything on the inside. Plus, why you gotta be so anxious to know? You’ll know yourself, in like ten years.” Sergio winked.

 

“I’m not a baby.” Cristiano smacked Sergio lightly on the arm.

 

“You even vote yet?”

 

Cristiano scrunched his face in exasperation. “Do you?”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Cristiano sighed, as he opened his flip phone for the sixth time in ten minutes.

 

Despite the series of frankly frustrated texts he sent to Rio, Rio was still refusing to come over to “talk”.

 

 _There’s nothing to talk about_ _._ Rio’s last message read, sent half an hour ago. _I love you, my darling boy, but I want to wait, for your sake. :)  
_

And Cristiano understood, academically, why Rio would want to wait. He remembered Rio as being a considerate, almost over cautious lover. A wonderful mentor and ally, with an unbelievable ability to suck a man’s soul out of his cock, but almost annoyingly overprotective.

And Cristiano didn’t need someone to protect him right now. He groaned as he adjusted himself in the couch again, his semi still irritatingly _there_ , even after jerking off an hour ago, and once more before that.

 

“Fuck, I hate being a teenager again.” Cristiano groaned. “How the fuck am I _still_ going through puberty.”

 

Cristiano had gaped in horror when he had got home from practice and had peeped at his bathroom counter, noticing a terrifying lack of proper skincare, and not to mention the spots he still sported on his forehead. Cris did _not_ miss this part of being young.

 

Still, being in his youthful body again had its real perks, he mused.

 

For one, being back on the pitch meant that his body felt as light as air. He was even faster than he remembered, leaving his teammates in the dust as he familiarized himself again with his old position, remembering his old footwork, adding in the years of experience he had accumulated since. And his body was fresh—no old injuries holding him back anywhere.

 

It meant that Cristiano had a perfectly healthy body, a lot of energy, and _no boyfriend to use it on._

 

Cristiano groaned and snatched a cushion, burying his face in it.

 

The problem was he didn’t want to cause too many waves right now in the past. The last thing his fresh career needed was a scandal, Cristiano approaching the wrong man at the wrong time. But he didn’t actually know that many men who were down to fuck casually back when he was this young. Hell, he was still going to mass somewhat regularly when he was in England, if he remembered correctly.

 

As Cris opened his phone for the seventh time, his eye caught a familiar name in his text messages, and he paused.

 

 _This is a bad idea._ He tried to tell himself.

 

But hell, Cristiano was young. His partial erection was still around, begging for any kind of attention, and he needed some kind of distraction or he was going to burn up into ash and die of sexual frustration.

 

 _I know what I’m doing._ Cristiano thought. _I can handle this._

He tapped out a message, and sent it.

 

_Hey._

_You hiding in my bushes tonight?_

And Geri replied back, almost immediately. _WTF? no. R u ever letting that go_

_Well, tonight might just be your lucky night. You still got that ten inch dick?_

A long silence, lasting nearly five minutes, in which Cristiano nearly threw the cushion at the wall, on the edge of just giving up the effort and just ordering some lame porn on TV and rubbing out a third one, when his phone lit up.

 

_what the FUCK._

That message was followed quickly by another one.

 

_It’s eleven btw. why r u asking._

Cristiano rolled his eyes, but smiled.

 

_Don’t you lie to me, Gerard Pique._

_Also what time can you come over._


	4. Chapter 4

When Geri finally knocked on the door, Cristiano was only halfway through his heap of birthday gifts, left in a hip deep pile in the bedroom by staff.

 

Cris reluctantly put down a gold papered box, to get up to answer the door. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he breathed in and out, slowly.

 

Despite having invited him in the first place, Cris couldn’t deny the slight turn of nervousness in his chest.

 

 _This isn’t the guy I know._ Cris told himself silently, his hand still on the knob. _He’s young, he’s not bitter, he’s not—_

 

Cris heaved the door open, and found himself vaguely surprised to see Geri there. Or the Geri that he once knew, in the full flush of youthful arrogance, balancing an arm by the doorway. When Geri saw Cris, he smiled slowly, leaning in an calculated manner so that he loomed over Cris, utilizing every inch of extra height he had on him.

 

“Hey.” Geri said in a low voice, leaning in even closer to Cris.

 

“Oh my God.” Cris rolled his eyes, before abruptly shutting the door in Geri’s face.

 

“What the fuck?” Geri’s voice was muffled from the door, but his outrage was certainly clear.

 

“You’re a dork, go away.”

 

“Excuse me? Is this a joke?”

 

“No, just came to my senses.” Cris called out. “Bye bye now.”

 

There was the sound of an irritated sigh, and before Cris could react, the sound of a key grating in the lock. He sprang back as Geri let himself in, holding up a spare key.

 

“I keep telling you to hide your spare somewhere other than under the flowerpot, dummy.” Geri groused, walking towards the entryway table to place the key down. “You’re going to get robbed one of these days.”

 

Cris sniffed, and pointedly walked away. “With friends like you, why be afraid of strangers?”

 

“Okay, just so you know, I didn’t just come here for…whatever.” Geri said with some heat as he followed Cris down the hall. “I also wanted to talk to you properly. God, Cris, you’ve never been like this before. “

 

Cris didn’t answer, still walking ahead without looking behind him.

 

“Cris.” Geri whined. “Come on. At least say something—”

 

“Oh, here’s where I left it.” Cris said as if to himself, walking through his bedroom doorway to approach a low table.

 

“Left what?” Geri asked.

 

Cris turned around neatly, and Geri nearly choked at the sight of Cris holding up a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs, Cris innocently batting his eyes at Geri’s reaction.

 

“Here’s the deal.” Cris said, slowly walking closer back to Geri, who was staring open mouthed, his gaze flickering between both Cris’s face and the handcuffs. “We’re not here to talk. We’re not here to mend our friendship. I texted you at 11 o’clock at night for a reason and none of it involves or needs a heart to heart talk, okay?”

 

Geri coughed, his voice cracking for a moment. “Okay? I mean—Cris, what the fuck? You’re—you’re not yourself—“

 

“Last chance, Pique. Shhh.” Cris said, stopping neatly in front of Geri, close enough for him to gently place a finger over Geri’s mouth, shushing him. “Don’t you want to see me in these handcuffs?”

 

Geri’s mouth parted in surprise, and he only stared at Cris for a long moment, Cris stilly watching, his body tense as his skin crawled. If Geri decided to spread stories after, or if he decided that an opportunity to be with Cris alone like this was his chance to do whatever he liked—

 

But instead Geri only nodded, taking a step closer into Cris’s space, now close enough for Cris to feel the heat of his body through his clothes, Geri’s hand reaching out to clasp the side of Cris’s waist, Geri leaning in with his mouth parted, his eyes closing shut—

 

“Whoa there.” Cris clapped his hand over Geri’s mouth. “We’re not kissing on the mouth.”

 

Geri made some noises that sounded confused and slightly peeved, and Cris shook his head. Geri broke free of Cris’s grasp to stare in confusion.

 

“What? Why not?”

 

“It’s weird, that’s why.”

 

Geri’s brow furrowed. “It’s even weirder to be fucking and not kiss.”

 

Cris gave Geri a look. “Right. Because you’re all about romance.”

 

Geri opened his mouth to argue, and Cris quieted him again with his hand. “Shush. We don’t have the time to waste arguing.”

 

Geri clearly wasn’t listening, and Cris responded by pressing himself even closer to Geri, now flush against each other, Cris looking up coyly to Geri’s pinkening face. “Don’t be like that. Honestly. I even dressed up for you and you’re being so rude.”

 

Cris lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a sliver of what he was wearing underneath—the dove white lace and silk of an intricate and delicate bodice fitted underneath his clothes. He saw with satisfaction the way Geri slowly swallowed at the sight, his hands twitching as they hovered over Cris’s waist hesitantly.

 

“Yes, it’s okay to touch.” Cris rolled his eyes. “I didn’t wear this just to look pretty.”

 

“Well I don’t know.” Geri grumbled. “You’ve been such a grouch tonight.”

 

Despite his complaining, Geri didn’t hesitate to place his hands flush against the bodice, Cris feeling the warmth of his hands even through the fabric.

 

“Do I have to take this off?” Geri said, sounding rather dumbstruck. “This looks complicated.”

 

“How about you get on the bed,” Cris said, letting his voice grow raspy as Geri kept stroking his waist, as if he was trying to calm him down, gentle him. “And I’ll let you find out.”

 

Geri, to his credit, didn’t stop to question Cris, quickly pulling off his shirt and toeing off his shoes and socks before sitting himself on the bed. As Cris unbuttoned his own shirt, Geri watched his every move with frank avarice, his eyes widening as Cris revealed more of the bodice, revealing a complicated bustier with lace cups and ties to the waist.

 

“Where did you even get that?” Geri breathed, forgetting to finish shucking off his slacks as he watched Cris unbutton and pull down his own jeans, revealing the delicate scallop shell pattern of the lace panties he wore.

 

“Birthday present.” Cris said smugly. “Half of my gifts from that night look like they belong to a bachelorette party. People are like, really supportive of me and Rio.”

 

Geri’s expression clouded over for a moment, as he continued to look at Cris, now stepping free of his clothes. “You guys have fucked by now, right?”

 

“Are you getting mad?” Cris laughed, moving closer to Geri. “Really? We’re about to fuck right now and you’re getting mad about Rio?”

 

“You look like you’re doing a honeymoon in that.” Geri said sulkily. “Ugh. Did you guys have sex tonight? Is that what you were wearing for him earlier?”

 

“Oh my God.” Cris breathed, trying to hold onto his temper.

 

“What?” Geri said.

 

“Just get up on the head of the bed.” Cris said. “And we can just get on with our night, and our lives by the way.”

 

“No.” Geri said, folding his arms. “Not until you tell me if you guys have fucked or not.”

 

Cris ground his teeth, but in a sudden move, he stepped even closer to Geri, climbing up to straddle him, his arms encircling around Geri’s neck, Geri forgetting his irritation to stare up at Cris with a reddening face.

 

“Pique, please.” Cris said sadly. “Don’t be like this. Why do you have to be so mean.”

 

Geri swallowed, but shook his head. “I want to know, Cris.”

 

“Geri.” Cris said plaintively, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Geri’s neck, slowly grinding his hips flush against Geri’s abdomen. “Baby. Don’t be like that.”

 

Cris felt Geri shudder underneath him, and then hands slowly placed on his waist, trailing up and down to his thighs, a ticklish sensation that made Cris bite into Geri’s neck, causing Geri to groan.

 

“Would it make you feel better,” Cris whispered in Geri’s ear. “If I told you I’m still a virgin?”  
  
“There’s no fucking way.” Geri said lowly. But his grasp grew tighter, more possessive, reaching to pull Cris flush against him, Cris rewarding the movement by grinding even harder against Geri’s belly.

 

“Why don’t you find out.” Cris said. “Why don’t you see how tight and wet I am for you?”

 

With that, Geri growled, and in a sudden movement, Cris found himself rolled off Geri’s lap, and onto his back, Geri following close behind, pressing him hard against the covers, and now it was Geri’s turn to grind against Cris, to spread Cris’s legs wide as his hips ground against Cris’s, Cris for a moment simply basked in the familiar sensation of another body on top of him, taking control, letting his head loll back as he felt Geri hardening quickly against his inner thigh.

 

“Geri.” Cris whined. “Not here. We’re going to fall off.”

 

And Geri, to his credit, wasted no time in getting up on his elbows and knees, grasping Cris underneath his arms and in a series of quick heaves, quickly had Cris pinned again against the pillows, desperately pawing at Cris’s silk and lace restraints, pulling hard at the stays in an effort to unlace Cris free.

 

“Ugh, stop.” Cris said, not quite managing to choke back a groan when Geri in his frustration, bit at Cris through his lace. “You’re going to tear all my nice things.”

 

“Want to.” Geri groaned, mouthing at Cris until he found Cris’s nipple, biting down hard on the tight bud. “Want you naked. Want to tear your clothes and panties off and fuck you until you stop being so mean.”

 

Cris in wordless response, clasped at Geri’s hands, and pulled them up over his head, Geri laughing lowly as he let Cris hold his hands tightly, bringing them up face to face. “You want that?”

 

And before Geri could realize what was happening, Cris quickly snapped the handcuffs in place, and Geri found himself cuffed to the head of the bed.

 

“What the _fuck_?” Geri sputtered. “Get these off!”

 

Cris slid out quickly from underneath him, laughing as Geri in his surprise slid on his side, his mouth open in almost comical shock. Cris got off the bed, and watched the result of his handiwork, Geri turning an almost purplish shade of red as he struggled futilely against the cuffs.

 

“Did you really think I was going to let you hold me down to fuck me?” Cris said silkily. “I mean. Come on.”

 

“What are you doing?” Geri said, a hint of fear in his voice. “Seriously, I’m not playing, I want these off _now_.”

 

“Relax, baby.” Cris said, turning his back on Geri to saunter to another bedside table, one Geri hadn’t seen from all the distraction, an assortment of toys laid out neatly on the surface. “I’m not you. I don’t get off on forcing myself on people.”

 

“I knew you were still sore about that.” Geri spat. “What the hell, I didn’t even fuck you, I apologized after, what’s your fucking deal?”

 

“Oh, Pique.” Cris sighed. “Ten years older or younger, you’re still the same.” Picking up two toys and weighing them in his hand, Cris deliberated for a second before picking the larger of the two—a pretty gold one with surprising heft to it, along with a bottle of slick.

 

“It’s just too bad,” Cris mused as he turned around, not missing the way Geri’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “That you have like, the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. Fucking unfair.”

 

“What are you doing with that?” Geri’s voice was half an octave higher than usual.

 

“Calm down. It’s going inside me, not you.” Cris got up on the bed, sliding up on his hands and knees to rest right beside Geri, his head resting on the pillow, staring up at him innocently, as if they were only having a friendly chat. “One thing I’m going to tell you right now, Pique, is you’re never going to try to fuck me raw like you did on my birthday with barely any prep.”

 

Geri swallowed, but any smartass reply he could have made only ended in a strangled groan, as he watched Cris arch off the bed, pulling down his pretty white panties to his thighs.

 

“I already opened myself with my fingers before you got here,” Cris said, a little breathily, as he uncapped the bottle of slick and liberally coated the toy with it. “But I’m going to need….a little more help, before I’m taking anyone cock.”

 

And Cris made sure to meet Geri’s eyes fully, staring into them without an ounce of shame, as he slid the toy into position, and in another heartbeat, pressed it inside him, his body protesting the intrusion, Cris allowing his lashes to flutter and his mouth to fall open, his head falling back on the covers as he slowly worked himself open with it, taking a minute of shallow thrusts before Cris could slide the entire length of it fully in him, the toy jostling against the tender parts of his belly that made him sigh in contentment.

 

“Oh.” Cris sighed, letting his head fall back as he lay back flat against the sheets, letting the sensation of being filled shiver through him down to his toes, relaxing him into warm contentment against the bed covers. True, taking the toy took more patience, and it hurt more than he remembered, but after all, it was technically his first time.

 

“God, Cris.” The sound of Geri’s voice made Cris open his eyes, to see Geri still straining at the handcuffs, staring at Cris with undisguised longing. “How much longer?”

 

“When I’m ready.” Cris said, in a dreamy tone. “But this feels so good already. Maybe I’ll just fuck myself on this and jerk off on the sheets, and call it a night. Maybe I don’t need your monster dick tonight after all.”

 

“Cris.” Geri’s voice cracked. “Please. Don’t do this to me. You can’t just walk around in front of a man while wearing panties and play with yourself like this. God, I want to be in you so bad, I know you were scared that first time but I’ll make it so good for you, I swear. I’ll make you scream Cris, I could fill your tight little hole with come until you choke on it, Cris, _come on_.”

 

“Choking on your come doesn’t sound that appealing.” Cris said lazily as he leaned down to pump the toy in and out of him slowly. “So far just fucking myself on a vibrator sounds better.”

 

“I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you.” Geri kept talking, a slur of sentences running into one another with desperation. “Everyone was telling me that you were nice, that you also spoke Spanish, and I thought you’d might be an okay teammate, but when I saw you on the pitch at practice I wanted you right there. God Cris, I’ve really tried. I’ve really tried to be your friend. Especially once you started dating Rio. I really wanted you to be happy. When I kissed you that night after I was out pub hopping I was so fucking excited. I thought things were finally going to happen, that we might do something…be something—“

 

“Oh my God, I’d forgotten about that.” Cris said sharply. “You tried to force me to put out then too, but your ass was too drunk to bother.”

 

Geri groaned, closing his eyes shut as if in pain. “That’s not…that’s not what happened. That’s not what I meant to do, I swear. I thought you liked it. I liked it. I liked hearing you moan so sweetly for me. I liked teasing you like that until you came. It was everything I wanted to happen.”

 

Cris huffed angrily, and Geri opened his eyes, the expression in them now more than a little desperate. Cris noticed for the first time that Geri was rock hard, his enormous cock straining against his briefs.

 

“Cris _please_.” Geri begged. “I’ll do whatever you say, I’ll be good for you. Just please let me inside you.”

 

Cris ordinarily wouldn’t have complied, not so early, not when he was still enjoying seeing Geri beg like this. It was only that as he stared at Geri, the boy’s wide blue eyes almost shining with tears, that something in him relented, some flicker of old emotion that was there like the strum of a dying light, once here, and then gone.

 

And Cris found himself tugging on the toy, pulling out its slick length from him, the sound of Geri’s sighing in relief, his mouth falling open as Cris got up to straddle him, the lace panties stretching to their utmost to shackle Cris’s thighs tight, Cris making sure to grind against Geri’s belly for a moment because teasing him to his limits was still fun to watch, before smoothly shimmying down, pulling down Geri’s briefs to free his cock, the length of it hardening even further against the soft skin of Cris’s inner thigh as he got himself in position, tore a condom packet and properly seated the sheath on Geri.

 

“I want to touch you.” Geri breathed as Cris adjusted himself, lining himself up with Geri’s cock, holding one hand at the base to hold it steady, the heavy girth of it pressing against his entrance sending shivers up his spine. “Cris, please, I need these cuffs off—“

 

“You said you’d be good for me.” Cris cut him off, his usually sharp tone softened into something low and dark. “You said you’d do whatever I said.”

 

Geri groaned in his throat, but he nodded.

 

“Just lie back.” Cris soothed. “I’ll take care of you, Geri. Don’t worry.”   
  
And then Cris added, as he slicked Geri’s cock with more lube, the slow movement up and down the shaft making Geri’s head fall back. “Don’t move until I say so. I swear, if you even twitch when I’m first getting seated I will leave you to blue ball it in this bed until the morning.”

 

Geri nodded rather vigorously, desperate for Cris to start, and Cris, shifting his weight from one knee to the other, slowly, slowly, started to sink his weight down on Geri’s cock.

 

The slide was excruciating, Cris finding himself breathing quickly, then gasping, as he felt Geri first breaching into him, his cock so much more bigger than the toy, a blunt pressure that was almost on the side of overwhelming. Cris heard himself whine, as he stopped for moment to catch his breath, balancing himself on his hands, trying to will himself through the pain, his body vise tight, trying its hardest to resist the invasion in spasms.

 

As if from far away, Cris could hear Geri’s ragged breathing, wild and uninhibited, speaking some words that Cris couldn’t quite make out, except they sounded like pleas, and Cris found himself biting his lip to stop himself from crying out, from saying they needed to stop, because he was damned if he was going to let himself break in front of Pique like this.

 

Cris slowed down his breathing, willing his body to relax, letting his shoulders drop, trying to consciously relax his body like he remembered, and slowly, the pulse of pain dimmed into diffuse discomfort, Cris sighing, slowly continuing the process of letting his body sink a little deeper on Geri’s cock, and waiting out the sharp knife like wave of pain that followed with it.

 

And then, suddenly, Cris tried to sink down further on Geri’s cock, expecting resistance, and instead found himself fully seated before he knew it, the unexpected slick slide of Geri’s shaft inside him making him cry out, digging his fingers into Geri’s chest as he tried to control himself, only he saw Geri’s expression of alarm, and raised a hand to his face to find it wet with tears.

 

“Are you okay?” Geri whispered. “Are you hurt?”

 

“No.” Cris said, rather dizzily. “I’m okay. It’s just—it’s fine.”

 

Geri bit his lip, as Cris tried to brush away the tears from his eyes. “This really is your first time?”

 

“It’s not that.” Cris snapped. “It’s just—it’s just a lot right now. It’ll be better. Just give me some time to adjust.”

 

“We could stop, if you want.” Geri said weakly.

 

“Ow ow ow.” Cris said softly to himself. “And no. Absolutely not. There’s no quitters in this house.”

 

“You’re really a virgin.” Geri whispered. “This really is your first time.”

 

“God, Pique, you’re just now realizing that?” Cris said, rather sharply.

 

For a few minutes, Cris simply let himself breathe, as his body slowly eased and relaxed, letting himself get used to being crammed full, the heavy girth of Geri’s cock filling him up, nestled deep in his belly. He could feel Geri shifting impatiently under him, but still not thrusting up in him, waiting silently for Cris to give him the go ahead.

 

Cris finally, finally, let himself rise on his knees, letting the fat slick swell of the shaft of the cock slip free, until only the head of Geri’s cock was still in him. And just as slowly, Cris sank back down on it, hearing Geri moan loudly, the shivers that wracked Geri’s body underneath him. And he kept repeating the movement. Again. and again.

 

And it felt like forever, but pretty soon Cris was bobbing up and down on Geri’s cock fairly quickly, ruining his body with Geri’s cock impaling him in merciless thrusts deep into the center of him, Cris crying out, riding Geri hard, his body slowly thrumming with fire with every stroke of Geri against the tenderest spot in him slowly coming alive. The pain had melted into a pleasure almost unbearable, every thrust making Cris nearly sob from the sheer sensation of it, Geri’s cock stretching and filling him up to the brim, stuffed full and unable to do anything but ride him harder, urge his body to fuck itself even more full.

 

And Geri was still being good, for once in his life, a breathy shout every time Cris bottomed out on his cock, pulling so hard against his restraints he was sure to chafe and bruise by the morning, but still refusing to thrust, still shakily keeping his hips still, letting Cris ride him for dear life.

 

And finally, finally, Cris felt his body tightening, feeling his body beginning to quake around the massive heft of Geri’s cock forcing him to his surrender, a few more white out thrusts, and it was over, Cris hearing himself cry out as if in despair, his peak taking over him, Cris still riding Geri desperately until it was over, until Cris slumped down back on his knees, still fully seated on Geri’s cock, dizzy and gasping for air.

 

Geri in the meanwhile was clearly barely holding on, his own eyes over bright, his mouth and cheeks a brilliant flush of red, gasping as he begged. “Cris, oh my God, Cris, please, please, please—“

 

Cris could only nod tiredly, once, and Geri didn’t hesitate, his hips snapping up viciously, taking Cris by surprise, knocking him forward on his wrists. Cris found himself keening as Geri kept thrusting in him, his body no longer offering any resistance to Geri’s cock, sliding down to the hot hilt with every thrust, Cris too wrung out to do anything else but take it, let Geri use his body in a tempo that grew more and more desperate, the sounds of slick and gasping in the air—

 

and Cris heard Geri shouting, and warmth bloom inside of his belly, and Geri was stuttering to a stop, his mouth falling open, contorted as if in pain, finally gasping an inhale, before letting his hips slowly sink down, blinking as his eyes met Cris’s.

 

Cris couldn’t say why he did it, but something about the empty, almost despairing look in those eyes made him lean forward, Geri’s cock sliding further out of him in a movement that made him hiss—far too soon and too quickly—before dropping a kiss on the side of Geri’s jaw, a moment where he simply stayed where he was, taking in a soft inhale, Geri’s scent filling the air, a note of ostentatious cologne, and the hint of fresh grass.

 

“Well done.” Cris breathed.

 

And for a few heartbeats, Cris simply stayed where he was.

 

Finally, he forced his sluggish body to get up, and slowly pull free from Geri, feeling the ache between his hips again, the slight feeling of loss as he was left empty inside.

 

As he got up to undo Geri’s handcuffs, Geri turned to him with a smile, still catching his breath. “Cris. You’re deflowered now.”

 

And before Cris was even aware of himself, he found himself lifting a pillow and trying to suffocate Geri for even daring to be such an embarrassing little _dork_.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“So where are we going?” Cris asked Sergio in confusion.

 

Marcelo was the one who responded, shouldering Cris while laughing. “Why you gotta be so nosy? Trust us, we’re just going somewhere fun, so you can relax for once.”

 

Cris made a face while curling up into himself. “I don’t need to relax.” He muttered.

 

Cris was still out of sorts from practice yesterday, and all he had wanted to do tonight was to curl up in bed and try to figure out how to play all the games he had on a strange new console, while forgetting what had happened between him and Zidane in the office. Instead, Sergio had showed up at the front of his house, and unceremoniously dragged him off the furniture and bundled him into the car, where Marcelo and James were waiting for him already.

 

“Aw, don’t pout, you look just like a baby.” Marcelo teased, squeezing at Cris’s cheek, expertly dodging Cris’s irritable swipe at him. “See? This is why we’re making you come with us tonight.”

 

“So what’s happening tonight?” Cris asked the back of Sergio’s head again. “Is that a mystery too?”

 

Marcelo put his arm around Cris’s shoulders. “You’re going to have a good time.” He replied sunnily.

 

“You make it sound like a sex thing.” Cris muttered under his breath. Despite all the noise in the car, he heard James laugh in response.

 

“Oh my God, it’s totally a sex thing.” Cris groaned out loud, anxiously trailing after Sergio and Marcelo, trying to keep his eyes on the ground as much as possible, as they passed yet another couple leaning on the hallway wall, both of them sighing and making a lot of _noise_ that was making Cris’s ears burn.

 

“It’s not—okay fine, yes, mature consenting adults are doing the dirty at different places in the house, but it’s not like, an orgy or anything like that.” Sergio replied. “We brought you here because it’s a private party and we don’t have to worry about anything leaking to the press.”

 

“Yeah, usually all of the team meets here and we end up doing a lot of bad karaoke and cards against humanity while sipping pink girly drinks together.” Marcelo supplied. “At least early in the evening anyways. It’s our thing.”

 

James, who had been walking beside Cris, piped up. “If you’re not feeling up to pulling tonight, just let one of us know and we’ll take you home.”

 

Marcelo laughed. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen Cris out and about lately. I think he got a new boyfriend at home.”

 

Cris saw a flash of an expression, a look that startlingly resembled dissatisfaction, flit across James’s face, before smoothing out.

 

“Hey, did you guys hear?” Someone—a familiar face from the last practice, that Cris couldn’t quite place a name to—greeted them.

 

“What’s happening?” Marcelo asked, seating himself on the couch, Sergio, James and Cris piling up on the same seat into a cozy pile.

 

“Apparently some people from Barca are here tonight.” The guy said, grimacing. “Doing some away game here in Madrid and they thought they’d crash the local nightlife.”

 

Everyone groaned out loud at the news, and Sergio chimed in. “Ugh, don’t tell me our favorite little Argentine is here too or I’m just going to leave.”

 

“Awww.” Marcelo reached over to ruffle his hair. “You miss your little friend? You guys would be so cute together.”

 

Sergio gagged a little. “Have some respect, Celo, I would never.”

 

“You sure? Thought I saw some flirting between the two of you a couple months ago. What did you do again? Pull on his pigtails to get his attention?”

 

“Fuck off, mate. Anyways, you gotta be at least 5 foot and over to ride this bad boy.” Sergio gestured to his body, to the wolf whistles and groans of his teammates.

 

“Oookay, you guys, can we just get on with our lives without imagining our captain doing the horizontal with the flea.” Isco made a face while shuffling the deck pointedly. “Seriously, we’ve been on this category for ages, lets move on. Everyone give me a card for ‘White people don’t care about blank’.

 

Alvaro rolled his eyes. “This is so racist.” He muttered.

 

Marcelo blinked innocently at him. “What are you talking about? We’re all blancos here.”

 

Amidst the loud conversations, Cris found it easier to relax somehow, and as the game went on, he found himself glad he was dragged here. It was nice to socialize with everyone.

 

And if James had a distracting way of softly touching his knee to his while they were playing, well, no one else was watching. They wouldn’t notice the way Cris was blushing in the dim lighting.

 

* * *

 

 

The evening was surprisingly easy, until it was abruptly not.

 

The line was drawn from the moment Marcelo got up to refill his drink, slightly unsteady from the drinks he had consumed throughout a raucous game of CAH, and Cris in his concern, volunteered to go with him to the bar to help refill everyone’s drinks.

 

“You’re a good boy, Cris.” Marcelo had said affectionately to him, patting his hair as he leaned heavily against Cris, his arm over his shoulders in an effort to walk straight.

 

Cris rolled his eyes but curled in closer to Marcelo as they made their way down the corridors, now full of people who did nothing but stare at them as they walked by.

 

Yes Cristiano was supposed to be used to being the center of attention but he never had the level of razor sharp focus back in England that he was receiving now. And while he might pretend to be all right in public, he always had other people to fall back on when all the attention got to be too much. Quaresma at the very first, then it was Rio, and of course, Geri was always by his side once he joined the team.

 

Thinking of Geri made him sigh, and Marcelo heard him. “What’s wrong Cris? Something bothering you?”

 

“No….not really.” Cris replied. “Just there’s a lot of people.”

 

Marcelo laughed at him. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you didn’t have a million people ready to admire you.”

 

Cris groaned. “Don’t say that. Anyways this is totally different.” He motioned to a group of giggling girls who were clearly recording him on their phones, without once looking up at them.

 

Marcelo shrugged, the movement making the two of them sway for a moment. “I mean. I know you still get a little stiff in public sometimes, but you don’t have to worry. We’ll always be here, standing right behind you. You know that.”

 

Cris smiled. “Thanks? I think.”

 

“Don’t give me that.” Marcelo laughed. “You’re my friend. You have a lot of friends here who would do anything for you.”

 

“I’m not doubting you.” Cris bumped Marcelo. “I’m just…glad. I’m really glad I have so many good people here.”

 

“Like I said before.” Marcelo hummed. “You’re a good boy.”

 

“Ugh, I’m not a kid. And I think I’m older than you.” Cris groused, but not fighting when Marcelo drew him in even closer in what felt like a cross between a one armed hug and a grapple hold.

 

“Yeah you are.” Marcelo replied fondly. “But you’re always going to be a big overgrown dork to me.”

 

“You’re drunk.” Cris laughed. “But I love you too? You small overgrown dork?”

 

Marcelo pressed a kiss to the side of Cris’s face. “Tell me you’re glad we brought you out of your sad house tonight.”

 

“I’m glad.” Cris said, curling into Marcelo’s side.

 

 _I’ll be sad to go._ Cris realized to himself. _Even if I’ll get to meet them, in the future. It won’t be quite the same._

_But. It’ll be nice. It’ll be nice to know that they’re waiting for me in the future._

_Everyone that I’ll love, one day._

* * *

 

 

And then Cristiano’s train of thought was interrupted by a very sudden and complete silence, the usual background noise of conversations and whispers suddenly deadening, Marcelo’s arm around his shoulders suddenly stiffening.

 

And Cris looked up, and there in the room already was a cluster of men, staring tensely at the two of them. Cris didn’t recognize any of them from first glance, but it was clear that Marcelo knew who they were.

 

And maybe Cris’s head was muddled from the alcohol, because it took Marcelo stiffly nodding his head at the group, and saying “Gentlemen.” before Cris realized

 

it had to be the team members from Barca they were greeting.

 

And it took nearly half a second for Cris to realize that Marcelo was pulling at him not so subtly, to turn with him and head out of the room.

But Cris couldn’t help looking behind him as Marcelo marched him out, a quick glimpse behind him, just to see if the men they were leaving behind were still staring at them—

 

and it was only a quick movement, but with it, it became too late.

 

Because Gerard Pique, sitting on a counter with his back to the door, a drink in his hand, turned around to see Cris.

 

* * *

 

 

For a stuttered moment or two, Cris thought the silence was going to extend into forever in the night, a stifling quiet in the air extending in concentric circles from the strange way Gerard was looking at him, every line of his body frozen in place.

 

Gerard didn’t look that different physically from when Cristiano had seen him in the game. But at the same time the same sense of dislocation painted the man before him from the boy that he had once known. The masculine bulk of him now, heavier in the chest and arms, the extra height, his once dishwater blonde hair now darkened into dross. And yet, he was still recognizable.

 

It was the way Gerard held himself that didn’t ring true. The stiff, almost affronted tense lines of his body, as if he was expecting an insult. The jut of his chin as he stared Cristiano down, and the striking blue of his eyes, that had never looked so cold as they did now.

 

This Gerard didn’t know Cris.

 

No, worse, Cris realized as Gerard stood up slowly, walking towards the two of them, still in the doorway, Cris staring up at Gerard the whole time with wide eyes, and seeing nothing warm in his old friend’s face.

 

This Gerard _hated_ him.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for attempted noncon
> 
> Also I promise peeks character arc is all up from here

At first Cristiano thought, wildly to himself as Gerard strode up to the two of them. _He’s walking up to fight._

 

Marcelo must have had the same idea, because he abruptly pulled his arm from Cris’s shoulders and braced himself in front of him, blocking off Cris from Gerard’s approach.

 

“Pique.” Marcelo said stiffly. Gerard stopped, but without looking at Marcelo, as if he wasn’t even there. He placed his hands on both sides of the doorway frame, a pose of casual inattention, if it wasn’t for the way he watched Cristiano, a stare that made Cris feel cold all over.

 

When Pique finally spoke, it was in an alcohol roughened gravel. “Of course the high and mighty Ronaldo would be out tonight.”

 

And Cris felt strange, like he had entered in a strange slanted space, where people he had never met before were certainly protecting him, were stepping in front of him to guard him from an old friend that he knew almost better than anyone else, but an old friend with a voice full of thorns and eyes with a wildness he had never seen before.

 

_What’s wrong._ Cris wanted to ask. _Why is this happening. Why do you hate me._

 

“Geri?” Cris said in a cracked whisper, too low for anyone to be able to hear.

 

Gerard went on. “Should I have called beforehand? Let you know about where I was going first? You don’t need to look so horrified, I didn’t come out here to stalk you.”

 

Marcelo cut in. “Pique, we’re going. Good night.” He started backing up, with one hand in front of Cris, making him back up a step as well.

 

But before they could go any further, Pique pushed himself off the doorframe, and stepped forward. “What’s wrong?” He sneered. “Scared? Never thought you’d be such a coward on home ground.”

 

“Pique, you’re drunk.” Marcelo said calmly. “We’re going back to our group, and you’re going to stay here, and we’re both going to move on with our night.”

 

“You can go if you want.” Gerard said, quite cheerily. He took another step forward. “But me and Ronaldo are old friends. We have so much to catch up on. So much _talking_ to do.”

 

Suddenly Gerard’s hand snaked out and gripped Cris by the wrist, an iron vise pressure that made Cris hiss in surprise, just before a powerful yank brought him stumbling forward, almost right into Gerard’s personal space, their faces only a few handsbreadth away.

 

“So what are you doing tonight?” Gerard said with a strange smile, Cris couldn’t dissect the energy of it, said almost in a whisper but Gerard gaze boring into him, alcohol on his breath, and his grip on Cris’s wrist tight enough to bruise. “Looking for someone to warm your bed?”

 

Cris couldn’t find any words to say, speechless, with vague thoughts about shivering prey animals caught in the open by a hungry predator. Wordlessly, he felt the same breathless snap of a moment, of wide eyed terror, before instinct kicked in. He could see Gerard recognizing his dumb fear, the way he was frozen, and the man only leaned in closer, his smile growing softer. As if he was pleased to see Cris’s fear.

 

“Stop.” Cris could only say. He felt a rough hand palming down his waist, gripping him closer, Cris turning his face away and closing his eyes shut as Gerard nosed even closer to him. Cris felt prickly all over, and he inhaled sharply as he felt the other man’s hot breath on his skin. “Geri, _stop_.”

 

As if from a far distance, he heard Marcelo shouting, and then hands shoving Gerard, pushing him away, except Gerard wasn’t letting Cris go, in fact his grip had tightened even more, and now Gerard’s teammates were starting to crowd around them, pulling Marcelo away, other hands pulling at Cris, and trying to pull Gerard apart from him, except Gerard wouldn’t let go of Cris.

 

That was, until Cris heard a bellow behind him, and then someone barreled hard into Gerard, the force of it knocking Cris nearly off his feet and sent him shoulder first into the wall, Cris looking up just in time to see Sergio get pulled off Gerard, red faced and shouting.

 

“Cris, are you all right?” There were more hands on him, pulling him up, and now Cris could see faces, familiar faces, spilling further into the room, arguing loudly with Gerard’s other teammates, and the energy of the room was quickly growing uglier, and then Gerard got up, and shoved at Sergio.

 

From there the night was over.

 

* * *

 

 

“You idiots.” Cris couldn’t hear much of the conversation Sergio was having with Zidane on the phone, but those two words came through crisply in the air.

 

Sergio at least had the grace to look somewhat shamefaced, with a fresh shiner on his face. He mumbled back in the phone a few words about how he was defending Cris’s honor, only to have his explanation cut off by a couple of terse and clearly furious sentences. Sergio winced as he hung his head.

 

“But you don’t understand.” Sergio shuffled back and forth on his feet. “Gerard Pique was there. He was putting his hands all over Cris by the time I came in.”

 

Sergio straightened as he listened to Zidane’s reply, his expression brightening. “Cris was clearly scared! So this totally wasn’t my fault!”

 

“So who told you guys about what was happening?” Cris asked James as they stood outside the place. The night was slightly too chilly for them, and they were naturally huddled close, waiting for Sergio to finish his phone call. Other tight clusters of their teammates were wandering about, still tense with energy.

 

“Some random people just ran in the middle of our game and said two of our teammates were getting in an argument, so we just dumped the cards and came as quick as we could.” James said. “What was happening between you and Pique anyways? I came in too late to see anything, but someone said he was trying to hurt you.”

 

Cris shook his head. “It wasn’t that. I don’t really know, honestly. He just seemed…really angry for some reason.”

 

James shrugged. “He’s always been that way? Since I’ve been here anyways. When he’s not liking conspiracy theories about you on Twitter he’s trying to murder you on the pitch. You’ve never let it get to you until now though.”

 

Cris shivered. “I didn’t do anything. Sergio just saw him and lost his temper.”

 

“Yup, that’s our captain for you.” James nodded. “Fights anything at a drop of a hat.”

 

“So what are we going to do now?” Cris asked.

 

“Apparently we’re supposed to stay put where we are until more boots are on the ground to do damage control.” James’s mouth thinned. “Sorry Cristiano. I know you didn’t even want to come out tonight, and it had to turn out like this.”

 

“It’s all right.” Cris said softly. “I just…everything was unexpected tonight. Can’t control for everything.”

 

“Can’t control for Pique being a creep, as usual.” James replied cheerily.

 

Cris let himself curl around James, and through the thick fabric of their winter coats, soak in his warmth. “It’s so cold.” He murmured.   
  
James laughed softly. “Can’t get used to a real winter either, huh.”

 

Cris nodded. “I don’t want to wait outside. I think I’m going inside to warm up.”

 

“Um….” James looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know how good of an idea that is. I think those Barca players are still hanging around inside there. Zidane would murder us and bury us under the Bernabeu if we started another fight with them again.”

 

“Aw.” Cris took a deep breath, thinking quickly, and made a pout. “But I’m freezing.”

 

James smiled at him. “You want my scarf? Can’t have you catching a cold on top of everything.”

 

Cris looked down at his feet, trying to look quite shy. “What I want from you is to warm me up.”

 

James laughed, but he also snuggled in closer to Cris. “Do you? I thought you were busy with your other boyfriends lately. You’ve hardly even spoken to me this week.”

 

Cris tried to think quickly. “You know you’re….special to me. Nothing’s going to change that.”

 

“Oh so you do admit it?” James said in amusement, letting his head fall to the side as he looked up at Cris. “That you’ve been mean to me? Not even a kiss from you last practice. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

 

“If I kissed you now,” Cris spoke up, feeling desperate. “Would you let your boyfriend go inside the house for a quick hot cup of tea or something? Just so my fingers don’t fall off?”

 

“Hmm.” James said, smiling up at him. “Just a kiss for the risk of incurring Zidane’s wrath? Seems kind of low.”

 

“Um.” Cris said, trying to scramble for an answer. “My kisses are worth it?”

 

James laughed, a bright shout in the night air. “Cocky, aren’t you? I’ve had so many kisses from you. What are your kisses worth to me?”

 

Cris inhaled sharply. He was losing time quickly, and he needed to go inside. He felt a desperate rush of courage, and spoke. “Come over to my place. Not tonight, but sometime when we’re both free.” He leaned in to James’s ear, nervously licking his mouth before speaking, in the raspiest voice he could manage. “I want you, James.”

 

Cris’s voice almost gave out at the end, but he narrowly avoided his voice squeaking. He could feel himself flushing, his face hot despite the freezing air.

 

Cris heard James inhale, and then laugh throatily. “Well.” Cris saw him duck his head, while smiling bashfully at the ground. “Um. What can I say.”

 

“Okay great, thanks, glad we talked, bye.” Cris said, ducking away to the house as quick as he could. “Also don’t snitch on me.” He called out.

 

* * *

 

 

When Cris entered the house again, he felt the full weight of the futility of his purpose for being there. How could he search the house in time before his absence would be noticed?

 

But luck was on Cris’s side—five minutes in, he stumbled into an empty bedroom, and was about to leave when he heard an unfamiliarly familiar voice, groaning as if in pain. Ducking his head in, he found Gerard collapsed on the bathroom floor, pale as death, clearly in the middle of dying dramatically by alcohol poisoning.

 

“Hey.” Cris said softly, not sure that Gerard would hear him, standing timidly by the doorframe, looking in.

 

Gerard didn’t look up at him, but instead sat back on the bathroom wall, letting his head loll back. “Fuck off, Ronaldo.”

 

“Stop calling me that.” Cris said, narrowing his eyes. “You only called me that when you were mad at me.”

 

“Well I don’t know what to say.” Gerard replied, letting his eyes squeeze shut as if to block out the brightness of the bathroom light overhead. “Your little thug boyfriend kicked me around, my nose still hurts, our manager is really fucking pissed at me ‘for starting bad press’ apparently, and on top of that, I am way too fucking drunk for your little mind games right now. So, no, we’re not rainbows and unicorns good right now.” Gerard seemed to tense up, and then suddenly hunched over the porcelain bowl, ungracefully dry heaving in front of Cris.

 

“You’re usually better at holding your alcohol than this.” Cris said. Without a second thought, he walked over in concern, getting down on his knees to rub Gerard’s back soothingly. “It’s okay, Geri. It’s okay.” Cris noticed the way Gerard seemed to stiffen underneath his touch, and kept talking in an attempt to soothe him. “We haven’t done this in a while. The last time I remember doing this was after one of your birthday celebrations in England. You were so drunk you tried to throw up in someone’s shoe closet.”

 

Cris smiled at the memory. He remembered that night, bar hopping with Gerard, trailing behind him with his group of friends, until they had finally ended up crashing at some random person’s house. He remembered Gerard, laughing lowly in his ear as he helped walk him to the proper restroom in that darkened hallway, saying he’d rather have Cris for a friend than anyone else, that he was glad Cris was with him. And Cris remembered feeling warm, and feeling how close Gerard’s face was to him, how easy it would be to turn his head just so, and press a kiss on his mouth—

 

“I haven’t said a word to you in years.” Gerard said, out of the blue, still tense underneath Cris’s hand. “Why the fuck are you bringing up England now? What’s your little game right now?”

 

Cris swallowed. “I’m not doing anything. I’m not….playing a game right now. I’m just…here.” Cris bit his lip, before he continued. “I’ve missed you. I do. I don’t know why you hate me so much, or what happened—“

 

“How could you not know what happened?” Gerard whipped around, shaking off Cris’s touch, and Cris couldn’t help but wither in the heat of his angry, bloodshot glare. “What the fuck are you saying?”

 

Suddenly Cris felt Gerard’s hand grip him by the arms, his fingers digging in cruelly into Cris’s skin, forcing Cris close to him, nearly face to face. Cris felt himself freeze, staring back in his old friend’s face, twisted with anger. “What the fuck do you want from me?” Geri hissed. “Hmm? First you sicc your psycho friends on me and nearly break my nose, and now you’re rubbing up on me like a cat in heat, begging for attention. Why are you here?”

 

“Geri.” Cris could only say in a small voice. “You’re scaring me.”

 

“Geri, you’re scaring me.” Gerard mocked him, in an ugly high pitched voice. “God, I’m Pique to you for the last couple years and all of a sudden you want to act like we’re best friends?”

 

Cris tried to pull back, instinctively trying to escape Geri’s hands, his voice warped with ugliness that Cris had never heard before. Pique hissed, and roughly yanked Cris back to him, the space between them even shorter now.

 

“I….” Cris swallowed, trying to find a response, any response because every instinct in him was screaming that the man who was holding him was dangerous, the man who was starting to lean into Cris’s space while staring him down. He felt like a rag doll, helpless in the grip of this strange mans’ grip, this stranger that had Geri’s voice and Geri’s eyes but wasn’t Geri, wasn’t him at all.

 

Cris knew he had to do something, say something, the space between them now little more than a breath, Cris feeling the heat of the other man’s body on his skin, heat that made his skin prickle, not altogether unpleasantly.

 

Cris closed his eyes shut, not fighting Gerard as he gripped him close, feeling how the other man’s hands seemed to relax minutely, as if he realized Cris wasn’t going to try to twist away from him.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Cris asked Geri, his voice sounding far away even to his ears.

 

Gerard didn’t answer him, his grip only growing tighter. Cris felt him breathe, a long exhale, tickling the corner of his mouth, Cris realizing just how close Gerard was to him.

 

“I was so glad to see you at first.” Cris went on. “I thought it would be nice. Nice to catch up. I hoped you were happy, I hoped you had everything you ever wanted. I wanted to congratulate you. I just wanted to make sure you were happy.”

 

“Cris.” Geri said, his voice pitched so low that Cris barely heard him, his breath hot against Cris’s skin. “Shut up already.”

 

“No.” Cris said softly. “I came here to talk to you. I didn’t come here for you to grab at me like this, and I didn’t come here for you to be so angry at me. I don’t know why or what happened, but I don’t want to do this anymore.” Cris tried to struggle out of Gerard’s grip. “Let go, Geri.”

 

“It’s a little late for that.” Geri said, a flash of amusement in his eyes, watching Cris trying to twist and pull out of his grip.

 

“I’m not joking.” Cris snapped, feeling fear twist in his chest. “Let me go!”

 

Instead, Gerard laughed lowly, and Cris found himself being pulled into a tight embrace, Gerard pulling him in flush against him, Cris pulling at his arms to realize Gerard wasn’t hugging him as so much holding him in place, feeling the man nose against the junction of his neck and shoulder, a ticklish sensation made new with the strangeness of his scruff, the beard he hadn’t had before.

 

“Now you’re the Cris I remember.” Gerard murmured. “Always such a hellcat before turning on your belly to let me fuck you.”

 

“What?” Cris said in disbelief. “How—when—“

 

The rest of Cris’s words were cut off by a sudden flash of pain that made him yelp. “Ow!”

 

Gerard mouthed at the bite he had made on Cris’s skin, laving the mark, the sensation of his heated mouth making Cris wriggle.

 

_Were we together?_ Cris felt himself flush all over at the thought. The way Gerard had acted towards him all night, all prickles and possessiveness, and the way he was speaking to him, as if what he was doing was familiar to him—

 

And yet the man who was holding Cris flush to him in an iron hold, wasn’t giving him any choice to shy from his kisses, alternating between bites and soft presses of the mouth. He was Geri, and yet something in Cris couldn’t recognize him, recognize the man that he was.

 

“Someone’s going to come.” Cris said, the words spilling out of him like a dream. “They’ll see us.”

 

“Good.” Gerard replied, biting at Cris’s collarbone so hard Cris couldn’t help making a noise. “You’re the one who was ashamed of us in the first place.”

 

“I’ll scream.” Cris said, strangely breathless. “I will.”

 

“You don’t mean anything.” Gerard said, and without warning the bulk of him was pushing against Cris, pulling him down, and Cris found himself abruptly on his back, with Geri’s full weight on top of him, heavy as a bull. “You never did.”

 

Cris felt a chill in the pit of his belly. Before he could respond, Gerard sat up, just enough space to allow himself to deftly undo the buttons of Cris’s shirt, before leaning back down, Cris feeling Gerard breathe against the crook of his neck before biting another kiss against his skin, a kiss that burned as well as the ones that followed after, a haphazard line running downwards.

 

“What do you mean?” Cris breathed. When Gerard didn’t reply, Cris pushed back at him, tugging at him to stop. “What are you saying?”  


“Do you really need me to say it out loud?” Gerard said, using Cris’s distraction to slip a hand under his open shirt. “You always liked to put up a fight right up to the moment I was bottoming out in you.” Gerard’s palm slid over Cris’s nipple, as if by accident, and Cris’s breath hitched. “And you were always sweet as a kitten afterwards too.”

 

“Stop that.” Cris said. “Stop talking about me like that.”

 

Gerard’s thumb brushed against the peak of Cris’s nipple, and Cris heard himself inhale sharply. The touch of Gerard’s fingers seemed to go straight down to his belly, and Cris belatedly realized the sensitivity was due to those piercings he had discovered the first morning. Gerard flicked the nub again, and Cris felt himself tense up, trying to fight against the sensation, to will himself calm.

 

“You always liked it.” Gerard said, as if to himself. He lowered himself down, settling on top of Cris, but this time his knee nudging Cris’s legs open.

 

“Geri.” Cris said, urgently.

 

Gerard didn’t respond, and Cris would have pushed Gerard off him, except it was as if Gerard already knew what he was going to do, and Cris found himself with his wrists being held down to the ground, Gerard using his heavier bulk to keep Cris under him.

 

“Don’t.” Cris gasped for air, Gerard taking advantage of pinning Cris down to now lave attention against the tiny stud embedded in Cris’s nipple, now peaked painfully hard. “Geri!”

 

Gerard bit down and Cris heard himself cry out.

 

And then the sound was followed by more hitching breaths, Cris feeling rather than realizing the dull bloom of pain in his chest, a sound of misery escaping him in a whine.

 

Gerard pulled himself up, to stare at Cris as he began to cry, tears making his vision of Gerard swim, wide eyes looking at him in something like confusion.

 

“Why?” Cris said, the tears hotly rolling down into his hair. “Why did you have to do this?”

 

“What?” Gerard asked blankly.

 

“You were my friend, once.” Cris bit out, before a sob wracked his voice. “You didn’t have to do this. Geri, I liked you. I liked you so much.”

 

Cris felt Gerard’s hold loosen on his wrists, and he pulled out of his grip, curling over on his side, trying to hide his face as the tears continued to fall. “I would have given you everything. You could have had anything from me, you always could. Why did you have to try and take it?”

 

Gerard sat back on his heels, still bracketing Cris, but for once, not touching him.

 

“It didn’t have to happen like this.” Cris said, grief burning in his chest. “It—“

 

But Cris didn’t have the words to tell Gerard how it could have happened. Though he had imagined it so many times before, musing to himself what could happen if Geri actually noticed him, for once. If one time, his golden friend would just look at him, really look at him, instead of his million other admirers. The same friend that he talked to for ages every day, on and off the pitch, about everything and anything, the friend who picked grass out of his hair after practice, the friend who gave just as good as he got when Cris managed to prank him—

 

“You’ve changed.” Cris said, his heart breaking as he spoke. The Geri he knew, with a laugh loud as a shout, and hugs like an octopus after victories, and the Geri looming above him, the strange man who took what he wanted while saying such ugly things to Cris, as if he was only a whore to him. “I don’t know who you are.”

 

Cris kept his face hidden as he cried, Gerard not saying a word for a long, long time. Then Cris heard a voice speak, as if unsure. “Cris—“

 

“Just go.” Cris whispered. “I don’t want to look at you.”

 

For a long moment, Gerard didn’t move, and Cris was dully wondering what to do if Gerard didn’t leave, except then he heard Gerard getting slowly to his feet, and actually leaving the room, and Cris, as if by cue, found himself sitting up slowly, curling up to hug his knees, as if by holding himself he could dull the misery glowing like a coal in his chest.

 

He heard footsteps returning back, and Cris tensed up, only to feel the weight of something soft settle over his shoulders and head. Pulling at it, he realized there was a comforter over him, and he realized Gerard must have put it over him, and he was turning around but Gerard was already gone, the room adjacent empty as if no one had ever been there except him.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It finally happened, in the tense aftermath of a locker room after a game that they had lost.

 

Everyone was quiet, and most of the team got out of there quickly after dressing. Cris had tried to get at Rio’s attention, but Rio stonily refused to look at him, retreating into a stormy, silent state, remaining seated after the locker room was vacated, with only him and Cris still remaining.

 

Cris had seated himself gingerly next to Rio, not saying anything for a couple minutes, while Rio rested his head in his hands.

 

“Rio.” Cris said softly.

 

“It’s okay Cris.” Rio said, his voice flat and neutral. “Just go home.”

 

Cris sighed and instead of obeying Rio, rested his head against Rio’s shoulder. Rio didn’t respond to Cris’s gesture, remaining as he was.

 

“It wasn’t your fault we lost.” Cris said.

 

“Yes, it was.” Rio replied tersely. “Don’t try to defend me. I was stupid and lost my head, and now I’m out for the next two matches.”

 

“It’s not the end of the world.” Cris said. He placed his hand on Rio’s forearm, in a half thought attempt to ground Rio. Rio’s skin was fever warm under his hand, still clearly tense. “We’ll win the next one. For you.”

 

Rio sighed, and didn’t answer. He hunched further into his hands, his shoulders drawing up. It struck Cris that Rio was hurt, really hurt, and it surprised him.

 

As Cris remembered him, Rio was a dependable sort of older boyfriend, the kind that he had desperately needed in those days. He could remember only a handful of times when Rio let himself be vulnerable like this in front of Cris. A few times when Rio wasn’t the powerful older man that Cris needed, the one to comfort Cris and take care of him always, his knight in shining armor here to fill the hole in his heart.

 

Cris swallowed, and shut his eyes at the memory. Poor Rio. He had tried hard for Cris. Tried to be everything Cris needed from him at the time. Except Cris was still too young then, still unsure, still finding out who he was.

 

Still. Rio was the one that had kept him safe, let him nestle in his arms until he had the confidence to chase after the man he knew he could be. Had let him go, with a smile, and with his best wishes, and Cris knew that they were genuine.

 

Cris began to nuzzle into Rio’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut. “Oh Rio.” He said softly.

 

“What?” Rio responded shortly, his reply muffled from his hands.

 

“You’ll always be the same. Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Cris murmured. His hand remained on Rio’s forearm, unmoving, and yet he could feel Rio subtly tensing, his focus shifting onto Cris.

 

“Cris?” Rio asked. “What are you saying?”

 

“You take care of all of us.” Cris said. “You’re always worried about me and the younger players, about the team, about how we’re doing. Because you’re kind. You’re truly a kind man, with a good heart, but this sort of thing shouldn’t be your burden. It’s not your fault we couldn’t equalize. It’s not your fault there was a fight.”

 

“Sort of was my fault when I knocked that other striker down.” Rio said evenly.

 

“I mean, yes.” Cris shrugged. “But no one blames you for it. “Just bad luck the ref caught you.”

 

Rio chuckled, rather wanly but still, Cris counted it as a victory.

 

And so, with a move that Cris had practiced with many men before, and yet never with the precise mix of fondness and apology that was nestling in his heart, he slid down on the ground on his knees, pivoting smoothly on them to position himself between Rio’s knees. Rio’s eyes widened, and he straightened as he shifted his weight to get on his feet. “Cris, you don’t have to—“

 

“Rio.” Cris said, letting his voice get low and raspy, placing his hand over Rio’s thighs, keeping him seated where he was. “I want to. I want to do this. I want to show you how much you mean to me, and the others.” Cris paused for a moment. “Except the others don’t get to suck your dick.”  
  
Rio huffed a breath of laughter, Cris’s heart lightening as he saw the dark mood starting to lift from Rio’s face. “Only you, Cristiano. Always.”

 

“Mm.” Cris said. “Now relax, babe. Just let me take care of you.”

 

Rio might have had some more objections on his tongue, Cris was guessing words along the lines of how Cris didn’t have to do this, that Rio could drive them home and then do their usual ritual of Rio lavishing attention over Cris’s body, except Cris wasn’t here for being taken care of right for, he was here for Rio, and Rio alone, to take on the burden of taking Rio out of his mind for once, to help Rio with his burdens as Cris hadn’t able to do when he was younger.

 

So Cris tugged on Rio’s shorts, until Rio got the hint and lifted his hips to allow Cris to pull them lower, Cris smoothy shucking both the shorts and Rio’s briefs down and out of the way. Rio sighed as Cris ran his hands up and down his thighs, as much to soothe Rio as to tease to him.  
  
“Cris.” Rio said, lifting a hand to stroke the side of Cris’s face, a movement both fond as well as a unspoken gesture they had when the other one wanted to check in. Cris smiled at the memory, and Rio smiled back at him. “Cris. As much as I want to know how much I apparently mean to you, I don’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with. Are you sure you want to do this?”

 

“Rio.” Cris said, smiling broadly up at the man. “Shut up already.”

 

Cris surged up, and surprised Rio with a kiss, a real one, a slightly petulant nip followed by Cris letting his mouth fall slightly open as he drew back, inviting Rio to take. Rio, ever accommodating, took the hint and did, delving into Cris’s mouth until Cris felt Rio relax, felt him stop thinking so much.

 

Rio inhaled, and let his head fall back when Cris wrapped a hand around Rio’s cock, already turned on, his cock halfway hard as Cris lowered his mouth on it.

 

As much as Cris enjoyed being the center of attention, he had a soft spot for pleasing his lovers this way, having them so pliant and vulnerable for a change. The way they made noises, soft, then urgent, the way they were left to his mercy and rendered utterly helpless. And best of all, Cris thought, as he let his own lashes flutter shut, as he got into a rhythm, Rio starting to twitch minute thrusts in his mouth, despite his best attempts to stay still—was the way his partners were still utterly focused on him. And his mouth of course, but still, him.

 

And Cris could feel it—all of Rio’s attention on him. He peeked upwards through his lashes to see Rio watching him with a wonderstruck expression on his face, Rio watching Cris worshipping his cock. Cris, still looking up at Rio, added a wicked swirl of his tongue and a suck to the head of Rio’s cock as he bobbed up, and Rio gasped, the expression on his face turning into something darker, more hungry.

 

“You’ve done this before.” Rio said lowly.

 

Cris couldn’t reply, of course, but for a moment he was sorely tempted to wink at Rio, a glimpse of himself through the disguise of the younger boy that he looked like. But when it came to temptations, the one in his mouth was by far the more pleasurable.

 

So instead he pulled off of Rio’s cock, letting it fall free of his mouth, a obscenely liquid pop following the movement, Cris looking up at Rio with matching hunger burning in his belly, his own predator instincts at high pitch, only his weapons were in the pout of his lips, and the way he smiled honey slowly up at Rio.

“Just because I’m innocent doesn’t mean I can’t learn.” Cris said, his head tilted to the side.

 

“So who taught you?” Rio asked, his hand reaching out, brushing a slow thumb over Cris’s bottom lip, still slick and wet.

 

“You.” Cris said, honestly. “You were my first.”

 

“But am I your only one?” Rio said, his voice now a rumble, his thumb pressing against Cris’s teeth, pressing in past them to stroke against Cris’s tongue.

 

Cris let his eyes flutter shut, and he hummed, feeling Rio stroke against his palate. “Do you really want me to answer your question?”

 

Rio remained silent, and Cris cursed himself for letting those words spill out, too honest for both of them right now, for the boy that he should be. Finally Rio spoke. “I know we didn’t make promises. You’re still so young. I thought it was better not to tie you down, when you still have so much to discover.”

 

Cris tried not to let out a whine, when Rio withdrew his hand. “I did learn, Rio, yes.” He followed after Rio’s hand, reaching out to grasp at Rio’s wrist, dropping a tender kiss on Rio’s thumb. “But even if I’m not the same boy who didn’t want to kiss you in public before, I’m the same boy who fell in love with you.”

 

Rio breathed out, a long exhale, before he began laughing. “I—I don’t. Cris. I can’t believe you’re telling me you love me for the first time while going down on me in public.”

 

“Maybe that’s why you also love me?” Cris joked, batting his eyelashes. “Also maybe I love a lot of people.”

 

“Maybe you do.” Rio conceded. “And that’s your right to. But I’m glad to have to hear that I am one of them.”

 

“Rio.” Cris said quietly. “I’m really happy you were my first. I hope you know that.” After a pause, he added. “Also, totally no pressure, but you aren’t saying the words back to me.”

 

“Hmm.” Rio said, settling back on the lockers, smiling down at Cris. “Maybe I have to be convinced some more. Have you show me what else you have learned.”

 

Cris rolled his eyes, but settled back on his knees, and obligingly parted his mouth to swallow Rio’s cock back down, letting his eyes fall shut as he slowly swallowed him down, to the root. He felt Rio’s fingers clench in his hair, and then unexpectedly, Rio thrust in his throat, driving himself even deeper in.

 

Before Cris could even think, he was gagging, pulling off of Rio’s cock to cough, gasping for air as he bent over the cold tiles, vaguely hearing Rio’s apologies as he crouched down with Cris, a hand over Cris’s shoulders.

 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Cris gasped, when he finally caught his breath, tears still blurring his vision. “Forgot I still had a gag reflex now.”

 

Rio, thankfully, didn’t pay close attention to what Cris was saying. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who—I’m sorry, Cristiano, it was instinct, I wasn’t thinking.“

 

“Rio, it’s okay.” Cris said, lightly placing his fingertips over Rio’s mouth, cutting off his apologies. “Really. I just overestimated myself. And kind of killed the mood, I think. I suppose I still have more to learn.”

 

Cris tried to unobtrusively dry the tears from his dry heaves on his shirt sleeve. _God, how unappealing was that,_ he thought to himself. He hadn’t had a problem in years, he wasn’t expecting his body to betray him like that.

 

Cris wasn’t expecting Rio to start chuckling either, and he looked up at his old lover in betrayal. Rio was shaking his head, but he looked back at Cris with so much fondness that it stopped his petulant complaints in his tracks. Without another a word, he gathered Cris into his arms, a loose, companionable embrace.  
  
“My darling boy.” Rio said. “I don’t know how successful you were at ‘showing me how much you mean to me’, but I know that you mean everything to me right now.”

 

Cris let himself be held, snuggling into the warmth of Rio’s shirt. “That was embarrassing and I want to hide in a dark place forever.” He complained.

 

Rio laughed, but dropped a light kiss on the side of Cris’s neck. “You don’t have to be perfect at everything, Cris. You just have to be who you are, and be happy. And that will be more than enough for me.”

 

Cris couldn’t find any words to speak, so instead he curled in closer, letting Rio, years and years after they had last spoken, take care of him one last time.

 

As they were getting up, almost shy again with each other, Cris thought he heard the slightest sound, barely audible, out of place, reverberate in the locker room, like an exhale.

 

* * *

 

 

“Cris, _please_.” Geri begged, his voice cracking on a high note.

 

“Nuh uh.” Cris said in distraction, still avidly browsing his magazine. “Cosmopolitan says it’s got ten new ways to sculpt your thighs in time for bikini weather, and I need to get this pasty little body pumped.”

 

“Cris.” Geri ground out, his voice ragged. “You’re a fucking tease, you’re evil and I swear to God, if you don’t get on my goddamn lap right now.”

 

“That’s a lot of hot air coming from you.” Cris replied, flipping a page without looking up at Geri. “Face it, you’re stuck where you are until you learn to behave.”

 

Cris was seated back in a lounge chair, legs demurely crossed, and would have looked entirely ordinary, if it wasn’t for the fact that from the waist down of his lamb white soft sweater that he wore with nothing else, he was dressed in a pair of murderously high heeled boots, oil slick black leather that fitted to his body perfectly. He looked as innocent as a cat seated nonchalantly by a plate of delicacies, that he was most definitely not allowed to eat.

 

Geri on the other hand, looked half wrecked already—his button up shirt half undone, his trousers shucked halfway down to his knees, straining against the tight fabric of his briefs. Geri himself was tensed tight against the ropes that bound his wrists to the frame of the bed, biting his bottom lip until it was red, glaring at Cris as he continued to casually page through his magazine.

 

“You promised there’d be a reward.” Geri said irritably. “You said you’d be so good for me if I let you tie me down again.”

 

“Which, by the way, I can’t believe you fell for. Again.” Cris said, laughing to himself. “It’s what you deserve by the way. For trying that little trick in the locker room today.”

 

“You were asking for it.” Geri muttered under his breath. “The locker room’s public.”

 

“News flash, dummy.” Cris said lightly, turning slightly away from Geri to peer closer at a page listing the season’s fashion do’s and don’ts. “You always ask first before you decide to eavesdrop on someone and their boyfriend.”

 

 

( _It had been a little more than that, Cris thought to himself, still feeling a smudge of the real surprise he had felt earlier that afternoon when he was blithely washing his face in the sink, Rio having gone up ahead to make some apologies to Ferguson when he had felt hands clasp his waist, a body nudging behind his, Cris jumping in surprise, butting up against Geri, Geri with dark eyes focused only on Cris._

_“What the fuck, Pique?” Cris asked._

_“I saw you two.” Gerard said, without any preamble. “You were blowing your boyfriend right in the open, where anyone could catch you two.”_

_Gerard leaned in flush against Cris, and Cris could feel that Gerard was aroused, his cock pressing against the curve of his hip in interest. Cris saw Gerard’s arms wrap around his waist in the mirror, as Gerard kept eye contact with Cris._

_“I could tell on you.” Gerard whispered, his height letting him easily speak his words right into Cris’s ear. “Tell everyone how pretty you look on your knees, sucking cock.” He punctuated his sentence with a languid roll of his hips, pressing his growing erection against Cris._

_Cris only rolled his eyes. “Did you want to be included? You could have just walked up to us and joined the fun instead of peeping at us like a dirty old man.”_

_Cris could feel the way Geri froze behind him. “You’re not serious.” He breathed._

_“Of course not.” Cris said, slipping smoothly out of Gerard’s arms. “I don’t have time for little peeping toms.”_

_“Cris.” Now Gerard was whining, a hand wrapped around Cris’s arm as he followed after Cris. “Come on. Don’t leave me like this.”_

_Cris was about to leave, but he turned around to see Gerard truly pouting, making puppy dog eyes up at him. Cris wavered, only for an instant, but Gerard saw it._

_A slow smile on his face, the full force of languid charm that Gerard usually reserved for people he was trying to seduce at the bars, Gerard slowly reached over to grasp at Cris’s hand. Cris felt him press his hand against the front of his shorts, the thin material hiding none of his erection, now fully hard. Even clothed, in broad daylight the girth of it was decidedly…impressive. Cris couldn’t help an inhale, and Gerard smiled as if in victory, leaning in forward, coming closer—_

_Only to have Cris lightly flick Gerard on the nose. “What did I say about kisses on the mouth.” Cris said, as Gerard flinched back._

_“What the hell? Is that still your thing?” Gerard said in confusion._

_“For you, and only you, it’s always my thing.” Cris said, leaving a decidedly irritated Gerard behind him in a temper._

_As he walked up the stairs, he pulled out his phone to tap out a message--_

  
  
_Just for being so annoying. You better come over tonight to make it up to me.)_

And so here they were, Gerard on the bed for the past half hour increasingly more and more irritable, Cris leisurely catching up on his trash magazines while ignoring him. Occasionally Cris would stretch out in a yawn, exaggerating the movement, not missing the way Gerard would watch the way his sweater would hike up almost up to the junction of his legs, before relaxing back into his former pose, and casually tugging the sweater back down to its former almost-demure length.

 

“What do you want?” Gerard said, the voice of a boy almost at his limit. “Cris, I’m serious. What is it going to take to have you untie me?”

 

“That, is never gonna happen.” Cris said, stopping to look closer at a magazine spread, an haute couture spread of dreamlike night wear. “Not until we’re done.”

 

“For fucks sake—” Gerard said, before licking his lips, clearly weighing his words. “Cris.”

 

“Hm?” Cris responded absently.

 

“You’re pretty.” Gerard said, cautiously. “Like, unbelievably pretty.”

 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Pique.” Cris said, putting down his magazine. “But go on.”

 

“You know when I knew that I had a thing for you?” Gerard went on. “It was one of our friendlies, no big deal. It was super cold and rainy, because fucking England, which I’m never going to get used to, by the way. And like, both of us were basically freezing to death, but we were just sucking it up in sweaters which did absolutely nothing because everyone’s soaked from the rain. Anyways. During the game someone knocked you down, like really hard, everyone was scared you might have gotten concussed, but you just got up and insisted that you were going to keep playing, even though you were bruised up and you were cold and miserable and this was just a stupid game that really didn’t matter.”

 

“I remember that.” Cris said, musingly. “Kind of, anyways.”

 

“You’re an idiot, Cris.” Gerard said. “And Ferguson called you out on it and benched you anyways because he’s not an idiot, but you were sulking about it the whole game through, because you’re also a stubborn little shit sometimes. I kept looking over to see you in the bench, looking so furious that you got to have a lucky break and get shelter from all the rain. You didn’t even put a coat on, you were so mad, so when the game was finally over and I came by, you were shivering in your soaking wet kit.”

 

“It was cold.” Cris said. He vaguely recalled the game, the smell of wet grass, the unpleasant way his kit clung to him, making him even colder, watching everyone else play the game that he should have. “You made me wear your jacket.”

 

“You hate the cold.” Gerard said, matter of factly. “Even more than me. But the moment I put it over your shoulders, you started crying. Like, really crying. Not like, cute little tears, but all gross, where your face gets puffy and your nose is running. You looked the ugliest I’d ever seen you.”

 

Cris narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to seduce me here, or convince me to leave you tied to the bed all night?

 

“Just let me finish.” Gerard said. “I’d never seen you like that before. Crying yes, like all the time, because you’re the biggest weenie I’ve ever met. But I’d never seen you so defeated like that, over nothing, this cold, wet, miserable person who was too stubborn to take care of himself. I realized that you weren’t this cool, rising star junior athlete that everyone thought you were. You were actually a completely uncool giant nerd.”

 

“Oh my God.” Cris said, getting up in a huff. “Enjoy lying there until the morning.”

 

“No, wait wait wait.” Gerard said urgently, arching off the bed in a panic. “But I realized something? Like, watching you rub snot all over the sleeve of my jacket, getting it all gross? I realized I didn’t care. I didn’t care that you weren’t the cool, good looking teammate that I thought you were going to be. You might have been a dumb crybaby, but you were an crybaby who looked really good wearing my jacket.”

 

Cris stopped, turning to look at Gerard.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Cris finally asked.

 

“Because I’ve always liked you.” Gerard said frankly. “And I always have, even when you’re being completely irrational, or stubborn, or just being a stone cold bitch, like you’re being now.”

 

Cris rolled his eyes, but walked closer to Gerard, his heels swaying to the rhythm of stilettos tapping on the bare floor. “And you think what? That you deserve to fuck me just because you get hard from watching me cry?”

 

“Why are you like this?” Gerard said in exasperation. “No, obviously not. I told you that because I’m trying to say that…that I like you, no matter what. Okay? I don’t really do things like this. Things have always been casual for me before. My family was always telling me not to get into anything serious because I should focus on myself. And it was easier for me, back home. Everyone knew who my family was. The people I met, they were okay with climbing into bed with me because they thought they could get something out of it. Well, more than just sex anyways. So I don’t…I don’t really know what to do. With you.”

 

“This sounds like a lot of excuses.” Cris said, lightly seating himself at the foot of the bed. “For a lot of things.”

 

“I mean…I don’t know? Maybe?” Gerard made a face. “Cris. Come on. Please. I can’t really think straight right now, just help me out here. Can’t you just make things easy, for once?”

 

“I mean, why should I?” Cris said, leaning back on the bed. “It’s so much more fun to tease you.”

 

“You’re heartless and evil and you would laugh if I got run over by a car.” Gerard said, making a face. “And I still have feelings for you. Unbelievable.”

 

“I wonder.” Cris said to himself, and Gerard tilted his head at that.

 

“Wonder what?”

 

“Nothing.” Cris said, cutting off his own line of thought. But as he couldn’t help musing as he clambered up to bracket Gerard, Gerard looking up at him with a pretty pink flush, so young, _so young_ , with that heady mix of optimism and trust that Cris once remembered, how easy it was to fall back in old patterns, old rhythms of push and pull—

 

“It’s not nothing.” Gerard breathed, looking up at Cris looming over him, pupils blown wide. “Tell me.”

 

 _Maybe if things had been different._ Cris could have said.

 

_Maybe if we hadn’t lost touch, after you transferred out. Maybe if we both weren’t so young and quick tempered when we met again. Maybe if we were better at talking with each other then like we were back before—_

But Cris didn’t say any of that. Instead he looked Gerard dead in the eyes. “If you got run over by a car. I’d show up in a little red dress at your funeral.”

 

Gerard didn’t respond, only giving Cris a deepening scowl.

 

Cris, laughing softly, lowered himself down, turning on his elbow so that he was laying on his back, nestling his head against the crook of Gerard’s neck, and the rest of body flush against Gerard’s, who obligingly spread his legs to accommodate Cris so he could lie more comfortably against him.

 

“Like I said. Evil.” Gerard’s voice was churlish, but he was taking advantage of their closeness to grind his hips against Cris’s, trying to build up friction.

 

“Not at all.” Cris said. “I’d only be wearing it for you. Showing your ghost what you’re missing out on.”

 

Gerard didn’t answer, his legs tangling with Cris’s, holding him in place. With the increased leverage, Gerard’s thrusts were gaining more momentum, more purpose, Cris’s sweater riding up his hips with the motion.

 

“That game.” Cris whispered, as Gerard’s breathing picked up, feeling him heave underneath him. “That you were talking about earlier. You weren’t just looking at your jacket getting messy, were you?”

 

Gerard didn’t answer, apparently preoccupied with other things. Cris tsked, and went on. “That wasn’t all to your story. I saw you. It’s not like you were being subtle about it anyways.”

 

“Fine.” Gerard said, grumbling. “Your kit was soaking wet, okay? And you were cold. But I wasn’t like, ogling you or anything.”

 

_(It was cold. The smell of wet grass, the unpleasant way his kit clung to him, making him even colder. The surge of temper and grief in his chest had faded away, Cris still wracked with a few unruly sobs but otherwise calming down, feeling hot in the face and chilled everywhere else as Gerard was saying a few awkward words. Cris turned to thank Gerard, only to see that Gerard wasn’t looking at his face, but looking lower, gazing at Cris up and down._

_And Cris, glancing down at himself, saw himself as Gerard must have been seeing him—his kit clinging to him almost obscenely, growing transparent with the rain, emphasizing the way his nipples had peaked in the cold, the usually baggy fabric of his shorts slicked flat against his groin and thighs. Cris had shivered, and tugged Gerard’s jacket around him tighter. When he looked up again, Gerard was talking to another player, exchanging pleasantries.)_

 

“You liked what you saw.” Cris said in a whisper, as Gerard’s pace grew more frenetic. “And that’s why you’re so easy to tease. You’re here mainly just to fuck me.”

 

Gerard turned to speak in Cris’s ear. “Okay.” He said, then swallowed. “But tell me honestly that’s not what you want.”

 

Before Cris could think of an answer, the sound of a doorbell reverberated in the house. The both of them froze in place.

 

“Who is that?” Gerard managed.

 

“I don’t know.” Cris said, his heart sinking. “But it’s late for any visitors.”

 

“Cris, don’t you dare answer the door.” Gerard groaned. “Just let them go away.”

 

Cris’s phone rang, and he reached over to the bedside table to pick it up. His heart leapt when he saw the name. “Fuck. I think Rio’s at the door.”

 

“For real?” Gerard paled. “Fuck. Pretend you’re not in or something.”

 

“He knows I don’t go out, especially at this time of the night.” Cris stated, reaching up to undo Gerard’s knots. “You need to get out.”

 

“Why?” Gerard argued, pulling his wrists free to rub at them. “Ow. He knows we’re friends.”

 

“Because since you were apparently too busy watching instead of listening to us today, Rio just found out that I’m not exclusive with him. And he was fine with that. But seeing you here, after our conversation? He’d put two and two together, and frankly I’m not in the mood for fielding an argument between you two.” Cris swatted at him. “Hurry up!”

 

Gerard huffed angrily, but to his credit, obeyed Cris, getting off the bed while pulling his jeans up. “He’s going to know something was up when you open the door wearing just that anyways.”

 

“Shit, you’re right.” Cris said, sitting on the edge of the bed to shuck off his boots. “He’s never seen this pair before.”

 

“Not just that.” Gerard said, collecting his shoes. “You’re missing your pants, dummy.”

 

“No, that’s okay.” Cris said, kicking the boots underneath the bed, and getting up on his bare feet. “He knows I sleep in the nude.”

 

“What.” Cris heard Gerard say behind him as he left the room.

 

* * *

 

“What’s wrong Rio?” Cris asked as he opened the door, yawning ostentatiously, pretending to be freshly awoken. “It’s late.”

 

“Cris.” Rio was standing on the doorstep, hands in his pockets. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry.”

 

“What brings you here?” Cris felt a rush of warmth in his chest, seeing Rio again, memories of the afternoon flashing through his mind. “Is it an emergency?”

 

“Not exactly.” Rio paused, staring at Cris for a moment, taking in his appearance. “Were you about to sleep?” He asked.

 

“Just about to drift off.” Cris lied, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to look as innocent as possible. He batted his eyelashes at Rio. “Did you want something?”

 

Instead of answering, Rio strode up to Cris, and without another word was kissing him, Cris inhaling in surprise, and Rio taking his opportunity to lick open the seam of Cris’s mouth.

 

“I came because I want to be with you tonight.” Rio said, simply, withdrawing slightly to murmur against Cris’s mouth. Cris found himself huffing a laugh in surprise.

 

“Why Rio.” Cris purred, shifting all his weight against Rio, watching the way Rio’s eyes darkened. “You’re never this pushy usually. What happened to the man who insisted on leaving on my birthday?”

 

“I think you are a very different person from that boy on his birthday.” Rio said. “You’ve grown up, somehow.”

 

Cris let his lashes flutter shut as if he was shy, looking down at the way their bodies were flush against each other, the warmth of Rio’s body heating the skin of his belly even through the sweater. “You think I’m finally ready enough to take your cock?”

 

“That’s not the reason why I didn’t have you that night and you know it.” Rio replied calmly. “You just weren’t ready then.” Rio licked his lips, as if he was nervous. “If you’ll have me. Only if you feel like you want this.”

 

“Rio.” Cris said, smiling up at him, something in him softening at the sight of an uncertain Rio. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t do this.

 

But Cris was young again, and why not? Why not live his life again, without regrets, only following the pulse of his want?

 

And if Geri had any sense, he would have snuck out the back door by now.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re so different tonight.” Cris breathed, feeling oddly dizzy even as he lay against the bedspread, feeling Rio’s hands on his waist, not his usual gentle touch, but more heated, the warmth bleeding through the sweater. The slow circles his hands were weaving tickled Cris’s skin, adding to his sense of being overwhelmed, especially as Rio leaned in for another kiss. Rio was usually never this demanding with him, he usually let Cris set the pace as he recalled—

 

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Rio whispered, his words dark and low. “What we were doing today. I just kept thinking about it until I had to see you.”

 

Cris laughed, letting his head fall back as he felt Rio’s broad hands span his waist. “So small.” Rio murmured in wonder.

 

“Rio. What’s gotten into you?” Cris said, smiling up at Rio under dark lashes. “You would have seen me tomorrow. Now we both won’t be able to sleep.”

 

“Good.” Rio said. His hands shifted downwards, kneading at Cris’s ass, lifting him flush against Rio. “I don’t want to think about anything except you right now.”

 

Cris exhaled, his cheek resting against Rio’s shoulder, Rio’s body hot as a furnace against his. “Talk is only talk, Rio.” He nipped at Rio’s neck, making sure his kisses stung a little. “You going to fuck me anytime soon?”

 

“Now who’s being demanding?” Rio said, reaching down with one hand to unbutton his trousers, his cock already hard and ready against his briefs. “Good things come to boys who wait.”

 

“Don’t tease.” Cris said, making a sad face, blinking up at Rio. “That’s not nice, Rio. When I’ve wanted you for so long. You’ve been so cruel to me.”

 

“How so?” Rio asked, dipping down to nose at Cris’s neck, breathing him in. “When have I ever treated you badly?”

 

“On my birthday night.” Cris said sadly. “You got me all ready for you, and then you left me still a virgin. And I wanted you so much too.”

 

“Did you now.” Rio said. Without another word, he turned Cris on his belly, the breath knocked out of Cris as he felt Rio pull up his sweater to his armpits, leaving the rest of him exposed to his sight, Cris feeling a pulse of hunger as Rio’s gaze raked over him. Rio wasn’t treating him like an innocent like he had before—he wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t hesitating as he was before with him. Rio was sure of himself now, sure of his welcome. Leaving Cris no choice but to be taken.

 

And Cris moaned as he felt Rio spread his thighs apart, with heated hands, nudging them so that they were obscenely splayed apart, Cris left vulnerable to Rio’s sight.

 

Cris felt the first lap of Rio’s tongue and he shuddered, a bone deep instinct, his body arching, his mouth falling open as Rio worked him slick and open. His cock hardened, uncomfortably trapped against the mattress, and Cris whined. “Rio, hurry.” Cris breathed. “ _Oh_ \--not that this doesn’t feels amazing…but I need you in me already. I needed you inside me weeks ago.”

 

“Patience.” Rio said, spreading Cris’s ass further, his tongue now laving the most vulnerable part of him, Cris feeling himself melt against the covers, practically purring as he let Rio have his way. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“It’s going to hurt no matter what.” Cris keened, the sound partially muffled by the plush bed covers he was hiding his face in. “I don’t care. I want you to hurt me.”

 

“Cris.” Rio said, half reproach and half astonishment.

 

“I mean it.” Cris said, turning his head to look back at Rio. “I want it to hurt tomorrow. I want to feel you in me, I want to be tender for _days_. I want you to fuck me until I can’t help it. I want you to fuck me until I have no choice but to be completely yours. Rio _, come on_.”

 

Rio didn’t respond, instead getting back on his knees, and clambering on top of Cris, laying his full weight over Cris, trapping him between the mattress and his body, his hands bracketing over Cris’s, holding him in place, his hips firmly between Cris’s legs, still spread wide for him, defenseless and easy for anyone to take.

 

Cris felt Rio nose at his hair, before dropping a soft, tender kiss on the nape of his neck. And without another word, Cris felt Rio sink his teeth into his skin, Cris gasping in reaction, and then he felt Rio’s hips roll, the world narrowing into only the breathless hurt and stretch of a cock pressing against his entrance.

 

Cris instinctively arched against Rio, only for Rio to grip at his wrists, shackling him wordlessly in place, unable to escape. They were in a wordless space now, beyond fondness or kindness, only instinct, a predator sinking teeth into prey, except it was impossible to say who wore fangs and who wore innocence, Cris letting his mouth fall open in a silent cry, feeling his heart beat a rapid crescendo as Rio’s cock kept thrusting into him, shoving itself past his defenses, working open his weakest point, and yet Rio was the one who was making sounds like he was wounded past bearing, Rio who was starting to break into sweat as he slowly, surely, fucked Cris open, inch by inch, sinking his cock deeper into Cris’s belly.

 

It hurt. It hurt more than Cris thought it would, until the tears blurred his eyes, Cris feeling himself flush hot all over, the terrible, gritty first thrust that he had underestimated, his body still yet more virgin than he had expected. And yet, Cris felt himself harden even more against the mattress, his nipples tightening against the soft covers.

 

Cris finally felt Rio’s hips flush against his, and he sighed shiveringly, his body teetering on the edge of begging for more, and trying to escape. Rio, somehow sensing this, dropped tender kisses on top of the bite, soothing Cris, gentling him. “You all right?” He whispered.

  
  
Cris nodded quickly, unable to speak. But he pushed against Rio in wordless entreaty, and Rio laughed, and from there there wasn’t a need for words, which was just as well because Cris could feel the tears falling fast, his voice better used for wailing out, the overwhelming sensation of Rio thrusting in him, small tight rolls of the hips at first, Rio pausing for a moment to grab for something, the sound of a cap opening, and then the cold slick wet of lube drizzling over Cris’s hole, Cris feeling wet drip on the bedsheets underneath him. Cris heard himself whine even at that pause, wriggling impatiently—in another breath, Cris felt Rio turning him over, Cris dazedly finding himself on his back, Rio nuzzling into the crook of his neck, scenting him, all of him, Cris impaled and helpless on his cock. Then Rio’s hands were gripping underneath his knees, pulling his legs up, like the weight of them was nothing, Cris sighing as he let Rio manhandle him as easily as a doll.

 

And then Rio was fucking into him again, except now the way was made wet and sweet with the slick, and with the change in position, Rio’s grip on Cris tightening as he bent Cris more and more in half, changing the angle so that his cock was now thrusting in him quickly. Cris felt himself melt against the covers, biting his bottom lip, a moan escaping his throat as he felt what once was breath stealing pain alchemize into a burning ache, a heat that burned in his belly and in his own cock, now leaking precome even though it remained untouched.

 

It still hurt, but now it was the sweetest possible hurt, Rio speeding up further, all gentleness gone now, only wanting to claim the body underneath him, Cris groaning as he felt Rio push at his knees until they were nearly flat to the bedsheets, the stretch in his thighs joining with the growing white hot pleasure building low in his belly, Cris with wordless cries urging on Rio—

 

And then Rio was crying out, a strangled sound, one last thrust into Cris, his body pulsing around Rio as he came, liquid heat filling him up to the seams—

 

“Rio.” Cris choked out, his throat tight, his own climax teeteringly close, only a few more thrusts, and—

 

But instead of responding, the way Cris had expected, either a hand or leaning down to finish Cris with his mouth, Rio smiled down at him, still out of breath, bringing a hand up to thumb at Cris’s mouth, swollen with kisses.

 

“Cris. Will you be good for me?” Rio whispered.

 

Cris nodded desperately. “Anything.” He breathed, wriggling his hips, still feeling Rio’s length burning inside him. “Rio, please.”

 

Cris felt Rio pull his arms up over his head, and then he felt the roughness of rope against his wrists, loops binding him tight as Rio knotted the cords.

 

“What.” Cris said, nonplussed. _Shit shit shit_ _did I not get rid of that? Does Rio know someone was here—_

Rio, possibly seeing the panic in his eyes, leaned down to kiss Cris, a warm, soft press of his lips, on his forehead.

 

“I said I wanted you tonight.” Rio said in a low whisper in Cris’s ear. “I meant it Cris. I know that you have others in your bed, and that’s all right. But when I’m here, I mean to have you to myself all night.”

 

Cris whined, trying to lock his legs around Rio’s waist, trying to fuck himself to his own completion with Rio’s cock still inside him. But Rio huffed a laugh, easily withdrawing himself out of Cris’s hole, and out of Cris’s hold.

 

“Rio.” Cris tried to keep a waver out of his voice, his body trembling and tense, as Rio clambered out of his bed. “Rio. I swear to God, if you don’t come back here and fuck me properly I’ll never let you come inside me again, Rio--“

 

Rio chuckled, leaning over to brush another soft but disgustingly chaste kiss against Cris’s forehead. “Be patient, darling boy. Be good for me. Wait.”

 

“Where are you going.” Cris said desperately.

  
“Just taking a break.” Rio said innocently. “Might make myself a sandwich. Maybe if you’re good I’ll make you one too.”

 

“Oh my God, you absolute bastard.” Cris hissed angrily. “Rio, you can’t do this—Rio!” But Rio, only laughing to himself, walked airily out of the room, though Cris had to admit, he had a wonderful view of Rio leaving, his naked haunches and back magnificent to the eyes.

 

Cris wriggled in frustration against the ropes, but he was held tight—Rio was definitely not new to this. _How the fuck did I forget what a little troll he could be?_ Cris asked himself unhappily. Cris tried to turn over to get friction against the mattress, trying to chase his fading peak, but Rio had done his job thoroughly—Cris was trapped on his back, with a raging erection and his cruel, evil boyfriend had spilled inside him and then thought it would be cute to leave him unsatisfied like this.

 

“Now you know how that feels.” A voice laughed, and Cris startled, turning his head to see Gerard peeking out of the closet, a slow smile on his lips as he gazed on a desperate Cris, his chest still heaving from frustration. “You look damn good like this though.”

 

“You’re still here?” Cris narrowed his eyes. “Ugh, I thought I told you to get out.”

 

“Uh, no.” Gerard said, stepping out, his eyes devouring the sight of a naked and vulnerable Cris. He had only managed to get his pants on, but was otherwise missing his shirt and socks. “I assumed you meant just stay out of sight. Also, wasn’t expecting you to actually invite Rio in and have him plow you like a slut.”

 

Cris clicked his tongue. “Are you done? Get out already. If Rio finds you here now, he’s definitely not going to be happy.”

 

Instead of retreating, Gerard only came closer, getting on the bed, a hunger lighting his eyes. “Cris.” Gerard breathed. “Rio’s not here right now.”

 

Cris looked down, to see the way Gerard was obscenely tenting his jeans. _Oh._ “You want to fuck me.” Cris stated flatly.

 

“Yeah.” Gerard replied, no grace or artifice left in his hunger, leaning in closer, smiling in victory all the while.

 

“What if I say no.” Cris said, but tilted his head to let Gerard lean down to nose at his neck, Gerard breathing hotly against his skin.

 

(Geri always loved doing that, scenting him first.)

 

“I’ll go.” Gerard said, shifting his body so that he was firmly on top of Cris, the rough fabric of his jeans harsh against Cris’s skin, feeling the trapped girth of Gerard’s erection press insistently against his inner thighs. Desperate to be inside him, Cris realized, and he sighed. “I will.” Gerard said. “But tell me to my face you don’t want me to fuck you.”

 

Cris gasped as Gerard thrust against him, the fabric of his jeans catching against his erection, a flash of oversensitivity melting into something dark and heated, Cris feeling his body spasm hungrily, desperate for something to fill him up, for any kind of sensation.

 

“This is a bad idea.” Cris groaned, making a face as Gerard began to unzip himself, his own cock not bound by any underwear, fully hard as Gerard nudged himself ready at Cris’s entrance.

 

“Yeah.” Gerard said simply, and then he was pushing himself inside, and Cris was arching into the covers, eyes wide and gasping, Gerard’s cock mercilessly plunging slickly inside of him, so much bigger than Rio, the length of him cramming deeper into Cris. Cris choked off his cries into the meat of his arm, trying not to make a sound as Gerard fucked into him.

 

It was a punishing rhythm, fast and hard, Cris floating on a sea of sensation, a small bright spark of consciousness surrounded by the maddening friction of Geri’s cock against that spot in him that made the tears rise in his eyes, a lock and key at work, Cris biting his bottom lip as he felt his body begin to shudder already, hearing Geri on top of him grunt as he kept thrusting in him, the sound of wet slick and come lewd in the air—

 

and Cris gasped, pleasure shattering him, leaving him with legs spread open, begging for Geri’s cock, begging to be ruined, the aftershocks of his peak leaving him boneless and pliant.

 

He felt Geri tense, and then groan, and Cris felt himself taking his second load of the night, filling him up further. As Geri collapsed on top of him, sweat dripping from his hair onto Cris’s skin, Cris could feel the way his ruined entrance was leaking more come, dirtying his thighs and the sheets underneath him.

 

“Oh my God that was so hot.” Cris heard Geri almost babbling on top of him, so heavy that Cris could hardly breathe for the weight. “Cris we have to do this again, holy shit.”

 

“You need to get the fuck out of me.” Cris whispered, but with no venom in his voice. “Because Rio’s going to come back soon.”

 

“Right, right.” Geri said, but not moving. Cris shifted irritably against his dead weight.

 

“Geri, I’m serious. Go out through the back, the kitchen isn’t anywhere close so he won’t see you. Rio’s sweet and all, but even he is going to lose his temper if he sees you snoozing on top of me with your prick in my ass.”

 

“I like that.” Gerard said dreamily, slowly getting up on his hands and knees, clearly sleepy from his orgasm.

 

“Like what?” Cris said in distraction, listening for any sign of Rio’s return, trying to clamp his legs shut to stop himself from ruining the sheets any more than he already had.

 

“You calling me Geri again.” And with a brief kiss to the corner of Cris’s mouth, Gerard was off.

 


End file.
